Don't End In Blood
by esompthin
Summary: Everything is the same except Sam and Dean (and Cas) adopt the random-ass children we meet throughout the series. And, I've changed the timeline of when we meet said children so I can force them to go through the Apocalypse. Specifically said children are: Ben, Emma, Annie-Alex, and Bobby John. And, yeah. Shit happens.
1. The Family Business

The story I'm going to tell you is not one of great joy. And I'm sorry to put you through it. If you want to stop at any time, I won't put it past you.

But, I will say, I'd be surprised, if you did choose to stop. I've found in my time, that humans can go through quite a lot before they finally give up. They're strong-willed creatures. Perhaps the strongest.

I didn't think so at first, but then one man in particular opened my eyes to the reality of a human's strength.

He lived in a nice, white house in Lawrence, Kansas. The man went by the name of Winchester. It was a family name, of course, traditionally taken from his father's side.

His father, a human named John, was a bright, young man. He was kind. Caring. Honest. And above all loyal.

But mostly, determined.

He would work on a job long after closing hours, because he was adamant about being the best and bring his family great pride.

Mostly, however, it simply made them distraught.

"Are you not coming home again?" Mary, the mother of the man - currently a boy- asked quietly into the phone.

His reply was the same excuse as always, "There's work to do, Mary."

"There's always work to do." She rubbed her hand across her face tiredly, "Dean saw some older boys playing baseball at the park down the street. He was so excited to ask if you'll teach him how to play."

There was a long silence, and Mary thought she might have convinced him to come home for the night.

But then John said, "I'll teach him on the weekend. I promise."

"John, if you're rethinking all of this..." Mary said, softly, like if she said it loud enough it would be true.

"Mary, no. Of course I'm not. I'm just trying to make sure we have enough money-"

"We don't need money, John! We need a family!" Mary said, forgetting to keep her voice down.

There was another pause, then John said hesitantly, "I just want to be sure we can afford everything we need for when the baby comes."

"We will. We'll find a way. We always do... So, dinner for two tonight, then?" Mary spoke into the phone, turning around as she did. When she looked up, her eyes locked with the bright green ones of her small son; the eyes of the man that will one day change how I see this world.

"I have to go." Mary said into the phone, not waiting for him to reply.

She hung up and forced a smile to her son, who hovered in the doorway uncertainly. "Hey, Deanie-Weanie."

"Is Dad okay?" Dean asked quietly, his small hands gripping a fluffy blue blanket.

"Yeah, he's just..." Mary paused, walking over to Dean and picking him up. Dean laid his head on her shoulder. "He's just a little busy, is all. He'll be home tomorrow."

"Bu' wha' 'bou' da park?" Mary adored the way Dean had trouble with his 't's. She smiled softly, swaying from side to side; soothingly rocking Dean.

"You know what? I can teach you how to play baseball, if you want." The young woman offered. She wasn't that far into her second pregnancy yet. She could still run around with Dean; perhaps teach him how to play sports. "Would you like that?"

Dean shrugged, "I dink so." He pulled back from his mother's shoulder to look her in the eye, concerned, "Bu' are ya' 'lowed?"

"Why wouldn't I be allowed to teach you how to play baseball?" Mary asked, wondering if Dean somehow found out about the pregnancy, and what that means.

The four year old then said, very seriously, "Cuz you're a girl."

Mary smiled, "Girls can do anything boys can do, but we can do it in heels."

Mary then had to adjust her grip on Dean, because the boy leaned over to try to see Mary's bare feet, he then swung his small body back up to glare at her accusingly.

"You ain' go' no heels on."

"Not right now." Mary chuckled. "But I could."

"Can I?"

"Can you what, Dean?"

"Wear heels." The boy clarified.

Mary gave him an odd look, "Do you want to?"

"I wanna do wha' you do." Dean said, smiling at the beaming expression he received for that.

"Sure, Dean. You can play baseball and wear heels." Mary said, hugging him closer.

"An' ead pie?"

"And eat pie."

Mary and Dean ate dinner alone that night, as they did many nights. Dean did his best to make his mom smile; as a child he didn't know what was wrong or why his father was always working.

He didn't know why his mother's belly got bigger, or why she grew tired as the days past.

He didn't know much of anything, as children typically do.

But he did know one thing. He knew that he loved family.

He loved when John would watch cartoons with him on Saturday morning. He loved the way his father knew exactly what was going to happen on the show.

"He's gonna fall." John gestured to the scene of Wile E Coyote chasing the Roadrunner.

"No." Dean said, disbelievingly.

"He will. Right after he looks down."

"No, Daddy."

Dean then watched, amazed, as the show did exactly as John predicted. He turned to look up at John, "How'd you know dat?"

John shrugged, grinning he replied, "I'm Batman."

Dean giggled, joy washing over him, "No, you're not!"

"I am!" John replied. "I was talking to Superman yesterday, and he said I should...tickle you!"

Dean gasped and tried to crawl away, "No!"

John scooped him up easily, and began to follow Superman's instructions. Dean squealed in delight and horror as John tickled him mercilessly.

He loved the days they would go to the park down the street and John would push Mary and Dean on the swings. He would pretend to struggle with pushing Mary, and would require assistance from the very strong three year old.

"Oh, I don't think I can push Mommy high enough on my own!" He would say, his hands pressed against her back, and he giving quite the effort to look like he was trying hard. John smiled at Mary over her shoulder and teased, "Have you gained weight?"

"John!" Mary would gasp, playfully smacking him.

Dean would gasp and carefully lower himself from his swing. His small legs would carry him to stand by his dad, place his small hands on Mary's back and push with all his might.

John would actually use his strength at that moment, and Mary would go flying. John would quickly pick Dean up and step out of the way, while Mary sang her praise, "Oh, good job, Deanie!"

And, with pride in his voice, Dean would tell all his friends at babysitting what he accomplished.

Dean loved when Mary would help him take a bath, she'd use the soap to make his hair stick up in odd ways.

"You look like a rockstar!" Mary would giggle.

Excitement would wash over Dean, "I wanna be a rocks'ar!"

"A baseball playing, heels wearing, rockstar?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" Dean bounced in the water, picturing his future self in all his glory.

Mary shook her head good-naturedly, "Don't splash, Dean."

And when it was time to get out of the bath, she'd get the fuzziest towel and wrap him up until he was warm and dry.

And at night…

Mary awoke first; she always had quick reflexes. As the door to their room cracked open, her body tensed, prepared for anything.

"Mom?" A small, scared voice said. "Dad?" Mary could hear the soft pat pat pat's of her son's footfalls and the smooth glide of the blanket he pulled behind him.

Mary sat up, relaxed now, and whispered, "What's wrong, Deanie?"

The footsteps froze. Mary could see the outline of the toddler, standing tensely in the middle of the room. Mary slid out of bed, careful not to wake John.

Dean waited until his mom was closer until he mumbled, "I can' sleep."

Mary picked up her son, holding him close to her chest. "Why not?" She asked softly.

Dean's small hands gripped her shirt tightly, "'M scared."

Mary slowly walked back to Dean's room, bouncing him slightly to sooth him. "Scared of what, pumpkin?"

"Da monsder." Dean whispered, hiding his face in Mary's neck.

"What monster?" Mary asked, stopping in her tracks.

"In my closet." Dean said into Mary's skin.

Mary set Dean down on his bed and slowly crept up to the closet. She opened the door and peered inside. When nothing immediately attacked her, she turned on the closet light. After giving it a through inspection, she turned to Dean and smiled.

"No monsters in here!" She exclaimed proudly.

"You sure?"

"I know so."

"Why?"

Mary sat down on Dean's small bed with him and pulled him into her lap. "Because, monsters won't hurt you. You're protected."

"Why?" Dean asked again, resting his head on Mary's chest.

"Angels are watching over you." Mary whispered, "They won't let anything hurt you, Dean. So you don't have to worry."

Dean nodded, his eyes already glazing over with sleep.

Mary rocked them slowly, singing a soft lullaby.

"Hey, Jude..."

And Dean loved that the most of all.

When Mary sat him down one day and held his small hand up to her growing tummy, he loved that, too. John was filming his reaction.

"Is he here?" Dean asked, attempting to pull up Mary's shirt, "Where's he hiding?"

Mary laughed, wrapping an arm around his small body. "No, he's not hiding."

Dean looked at her stomach and narrowed his eyes accusingly, "Did you ead him?"

Holding back giggles, she shook her head, "No, no."

"Den where is he?"

John spoke up from behind the camera, "In Mommy's tummy!"

Dean squinted at Mary, about to call her a liar. She totally did eat his new brother. Rude. But then a new thought crossed his mind, curiously, he asked, "Whad' he doin' dere?"

Because what does happen to food - or little brothers - when they're eaten?

"Sleeping, probably." His mother replied. Mary shrugged at John's snort.

Dean squirmed to look from his mom to his dad. "How long will he sleep? Can he wake up?"

"Not yet, Deanie." John said, a smile in his voice.

Dean frowned, wanting to see his new little brother now. "Den when?"

"In about six months." Mary replied, "And then you'll be a big brother!"

The small child groaned, "Six whole months!? Das like never!"

It was apparent to me that this child didn't actually understand the concept of time.

"You were in there for more than six months too, you know." Mary said. She laughed at Dean's amazed expression.

Her son hesitantly placed his tiny hand on her round stomach, "I was sleepin in you too?"

"Uh, yeah." Mary said, glancing at John.

"How'd I fit?"

"Well, you were a lot smaller. Remember when we went to the doctor's last week? And they measured you?" Mary asked.

Dean nodded enthusiastically, "Dey said I go'd 'aller!"

"Yes! You grew four inches!" Mary agreed, "But you weren't always this tall. You used to be really little. And your little brother will be really small too. That's why he can fit in my tummy."

"How lil will he be?" Dean asked.

Mary rubbed her stomach fondly, "You'll see when he gets here."

Dean nodded, apparently satisfied. "Wha's his name?"

John walked up to them, momentarily forgetting the camera. He laid his free hand on top of Mary's. The two smiled at each other, their eyes twinkling with joy and warmth.

"Sam." They said together, still staring into each other's eyes. Like they were saying the name to each other, and not to their son.

Addressing Dean, John said, "Your little brother will be named Sam."

The closer to the "big day" they got, the more excited Dean became. Every time Mary would walk into the room, Dean would ask, "Is he here yed?"

"Not yet." Mary would always reply, a smile gracing her lips.

When Mary was placed in the hospital, John asked the nice old lady from across the street to watch Dean while the baby was being born.

While they waited, Dean enthusiastically explained to her all the cool things he and Sam will do once he gets here.

"And we're gonna play cars, and we'll go to da park. And we'll hold Mommy's hand. And we'll wadch car'oons." Dean said as the old lady - Ms. Myers - helped him into his pajamas. "And and and we'll be rocks'ars! And superheros!"

"He's not going to be able to do all those things with you just yet, Dean." Ms. Myers said, not unkindly.

"I know." Dean replied. "He's godda ged here firsd."

Ms. Myers chuckled, "Well, even once he's here, Dean. He has to get a little older before you can do anything like that."

"Why?" Dean looked at her like she was a little out of it.

"Samuel will be a baby, Dean." The old woman said. "And babies simply can't do all the fun things you want them to." She paused and winked, "I have a bit of the same problem."

"Bud we're gonna play baseball." Dean frowned at her. "Can Sam play baseball?"

"When he's older, Dean." Ms. Myers said, straightening his shirt. "Now, you also have to understand that your mother and father will be a bit busy with the baby. And just because they might be with Samuel a bit more does not mean they love you any less."

Dean gave her a sharp look; because, hold up, Sam is going to make Mom and Dad not pay attention to him?

Ms. Myers continued, consolingly, "Sam will just need more help than you. You're big and strong. If you want to be a good big brother, you should help your parents help your brother."

"Whad do I do?" Dean asked. How do you help someone help someone else?

"Just take care of Sam, Dean." Ms. Myers smiled. "Your mother and father will really appreciate it."

Dean nodded seriously, before asking, "D'you dink Sam'll like pie?"

"Of course." Ms. Myers smiled, "Who doesn't like pie? If you promise to go to bed early tonight, tomorrow I'll let you help me make pie."

Dean nodded enthusiastically and let Ms. Myers tuck him into bed.

A few days later, Sam was able to come home from the hospital. John had set Dean down in a big Lazy Boy chair and said, slowly, "Now, be careful with him, Dean."

"I will." Dean promised. John hesitantly placed Sam in Dean's awaiting arms.

Dean was amazed; the baby was probably the smallest human Dean had ever seen. Sam, a rarely calm baby, stared up at his big brother for the first time.

And Dean screamed.

"HE'S SO LIDDLE!"

Sam flinched, eyes wide with shock, but he didn't cry. He made a grunty noise and glanced at John and Mary, but otherwise didn't do anything.  
"Dean, don't yell." John scolded calmly, "You could hurt his ears."

Dean looked down at his brother's wide, confused eyes. "Sorry, Sam. I won' hurd you no more."

And he didn't.

Things were troubling at first with a new baby around. Ms. Myers was right, Mary would have to give all her attention to Sam. John was gone often, working; providing for his family. Dean liked when it was Sam's nap time, because then, he and Mary would watch TV until Sam woke up.

When Sam got a little bigger and could sit up on his own, Dean enjoyed spending time with him more. Because now, Sam could play with Dean's trucks too. He could giggle at the TV - even if it was at the wrong moments - and he could look at the pictures in the books Dean read to him.

"I do so like green eggs and ham!" Dean read with Sam sitting on his lap, "Dank you! Dank you, Sam-I-am!" Dean specifically liked to read Sam this book, because he and the main character shared the same name. When Dean first read it to him, he paused at every page and said, "Das you, Sam."

Sam didn't know, and probably care, what Dean was saying, but he stared at the pages intently anyway.

Dean read to Sam every night. It helped him learn, and it kept Sam quiet. Mary loved to sit and watch Dean sound out the words. He picked up on things quickly. In most of the books they read, he was able to recognize the repetition and guess what would come next. Mary was incredibly proud of her four-year-old son.

"Good job, Deanie!" Mary said when Dean closed the Dr. Seuss book. She was sure he had it memorized by now. John stepped into the room then, one of the rare times he's home before the boys are in bed. Mary gave him a look, "You missed a great story today."

John, at least, was able to look apologetic, "Dean'll have to read it to me tomorrow. You don't mind reading it again, do ya, tiger?"

"Yeah!" Dean shouted enthusiastically. Sam looked at him quickly and Dean remembered to keep his voice down. "Sorry, Sam."

"Bed time!" Mary said, picking up Sam smoothly and carrying him upstairs to his crib.

"Hey, I'll race you upstairs!" John said to Dean, already in a sprinter's crouch.

"Yeah!" Dean slid off the couch and crouched next to John, a little wobbly, but ready to run.

"You won't beat me this time." John said. "Ready, set…" He turned suddenly, picked Dean up, and dropped him back onto the couch. "Go!"

The man turned and jogged to the stairs. He could hear Dean laughing as he ran after his dad. "You cheaded!"

"No I didn't!" John said, already standing on the first steps, "I just used my resources."

Dean giggled and ran up the steps, John acted surprised as Dean pushed past him. He waited until Dean was almost at the top of the stairs and then called, "Here I come!"

Dean squealed as he made it to the top and started crawling towards his room. John scooped him up into the air and shouted, "He's gonna pass the other competitor! He's gonna win! He could go all the way!" As he did, he made unnecessary turns and spun around, Dean squealing in his arms the entire time.

John ran up to Dean's bed and dropped the small boy into a pile of pillows and stuffed animals. "Dang." John huffed. "He lost again."

"I won! I won! I won!" Dean shouted, panting with giggles and spent energy.

John chuckled, "Yeah. You did. Way to go, tiger." He then helped Dean get under the blankets. "Now, here's your dog." He held up Dean's teddy bear.

Dean giggled. "Tha's a bear, Daddy!"

"Is it?" John glanced at the bear in his hands. "You sure?"

"Yeah!"

"Looks kinda dogish to me."

"No, Daddy!" Dean reached up and grabbed the bear.

John laughed, "Well, you know better than me." He ruffled Dean's long, light brown hair. "Now. You all situated?"

"Yeah."

"You how you wanna sleep?"

Dean squirmed a bit to get comfier. "Yeah."

John gave him a mock-serious look, "You sure? Because I'm gonna tuck you in now. And then you won't be able to move from this spot."

"I'm ready." Dean nodded, squirming into the pillows more.

John smiled, "Alright. I'm gonna tuck now." He pushed the blankets around and under Dean, so he was more or less cocooned in warmth. "And, tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck," he said as he made he was down Dean's small body. "And toes!" He wiggled Dean's feet before he smooshed the blankets around them.

Dean giggled and smiled up at his father. "G'night, Daddy!"

"Goodnight, Dean." John pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead. "Do you want the nightlight on?"

Dean hesitated. He believed wholeheartedly what his mom told him; that angels were watching over him. But he wasn't sure what babies with wings and halos could do. "Um…"

"It's okay to be afraid, Dean." John said softly. "I'll turn the light on for you. Because even if you don't need it, I might."

"Do you haffta have a nigh'ligh?" Dean asked.

John nodded, "Oh, yeah. Sometimes two."

Dean smiled at that. "Okay." He watched as John turned on his Batman nightlight.

Before John closed the door to Dean's room, he said, "Goodnight, Dean. I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

John smiled softly as he shut the door.

Most nights would go like this.

Some nights didn't, but Dean wasn't aware if it.

One of the rare nights John was home for dinner, a day in late October.

John and Mary ate quietly, having casual conversation only to fill the silence. Dean was eating Mac and Cheese by the spoonfuls, one of his favorite meals. Sam sat across from him in a high chair. He was supposed to be eating Cheerios, but he only occasionally managed to get one in his mouth.

"Daddy, wanna see my new toy?" Dean asked, interrupting his parent's empty conversation about the weather.

John shot Mary a significant look; to which Mary suppressed a sigh. The father smiled and said, "Sure, tiger. Go get it for me?"

Dean nodded excitedly, slid off his chair, and ran out of the room. Sam watched him go, a Cheerio stuck to his cheek.

"You bought him another toy?" John hissed across the table.

"He wanted it, John." Mary replied, setting her fork down.

"Mary, we've had this conversation." John starts, rubbing his forehead.

Mary shook her head, "It was three dollars, John. That's it. And he was really good this week, he deserved it."

"What if he's good every week?" John asked. "Are you going to get him a new toy every week?"

"I don't see why not." Mary held her ground.

"Money, Mary. That's why not." John said. "3 times 72, that's over 200 dollars a year. Just on his toys."

Mary rolled her eyes, "Obviously it wouldn't be every week-"

"You just said it would be."

"John, listen-"

"I just want us to have enough to be able to survive. And you constantly spoiling him isn't making it any easier."

"He's four. Let him have his fun."

"He can have fun with the toys he already has."

"I just want him to be happy!"

"So do I!"

"Then let him have the toy, John!"

John didn't reply, because Sam then threw his sippy cup off the side of his chair. As John leaned over to pick it up, the adults steadied themselves.

"Look," Mary said softly, "We already agreed I'd get a job once Sam was a little older. Until then, I know money is tight. But I've been making budget cuts of my own. Ones that don't involve the kids. Buying something for Dean every once in awhile is fine."

"Alright. Okay." John said, setting the cup down a little forcefully. Sam threw a Cheerio at his hand.

They could hear Dean's pants as he ran back to the kitchen. John gave Mary one last look before a smile stretched across his face.

"Wow! What is that?" He asked his son in faux wonder.

"'Sa Powder Ranger!" Dean said as he held up his new action figure triumphantly.

"Wow!" John replied, his smile less forced.

"Yeah! An' id comes wif a sword." Dean pointed to the sword in the Ranger's hand. "An' id fighs crime."

"What color is it?" John tested Dean.

The toddler stared at the toy in his hands for a moment, before he shouted confidently, "Red!"

"Atta boy." John smiled, ruffling Dean's hair.

Sam whined, tired and cranky. Mary's already standing up before John could look away from Dean. The mother carefully picks up the six month old and smiles warmly at it. "Is it someone's bedtime?"

"Not me!" Dean said.

"Not until you finish that food, little mister." John said. Dean smiled because this was the kind of food he wouldn't mind finishing.

After a few moments of silence, John asked his son, "Do you know what next month is?"

Dean nodded and said, "July."

"July? No, not quite." John smiled in amusement. "It's December."

"Right." Dean said as he abandoned his spoon and started to pick up individual pieces of macaroni with his fingers.

"Do you remember what holiday is in December?" John watched as Dean dropped some macaroni in his lap.

"Eader."

"Not Easter." John chuckled. "We already had Easter this year, remember? We went to an egg hunt and you got candy."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, hardly paying attention.

"So what holiday is in December?" John asked.

"I know." Dean replied, although he didn't further explain.

John supplied for him, "Is it Christmas?"

"Yeah." Dean looked up at his dad and smiled. "Yeah!"

"Do you remember last year's Christmas?" John leaned forward to wipe some cheese off Dean's forehead. Human children have a talent for placing food in areas it shouldn't be.

"Yeah!" Dean was nodding enthusiastically now. "Presens! An' Sana!"

"Right, right." John nodded, "Presents and Santa. Do you remember what the presents were under? That you helped decorate?"

"A twee?" Dean hesitated, unsure if that was the right answer.

"That's right. A Christmas Tree. We're gonna get one tomorrow. At the tree store. And I'll let you pick out the tree." John sat back in his chair, as if he just laid out the rules for a deal and was waiting for a response.

Dean just nodded, "Good."

"But." John said, "When we decorate the tree, you can't put all the decorations on one tree branch."

"Why?"

"Because they should be spread throughout the tree."

"Why?"

"Because it looks nicer."

"Why?"

"Because your mom likes it better."

Dean nodded, satisfied with that response. He picked at his food a bit more before John decided it was time for bed.

The caring father quickly cleaned up Dean's face and hands with wet wipes. "Hey, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"I'll race you upstairs!"

One night wasn't like the rest. And everyone knew about it.

It was November 2nd, 1983. John was working late, per usual. Mary and Dean had already eaten, cleaned up, and were ready for bed.

Dean started to climb the stairs slowly. Mary met him halfway. She stood to the side and watched as Dean climbed the stairs in choppy steps.

"Need help?" She asked.

"No." Dean kept climbing; step up with one foot, step up with the other, balance, step up with one foot…

"You got it?" Mary crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah." Dean put his hand on Mary's leg to steady himself.

Mary shook her head and swooped her son up into her arms.

"Hey!" He yelled out, offended and surprised.

Mary laughed as she carried him the rest of the way up the stairs. She walked into Sam's room with Dean on her hip, "C'mon, let's say goodnight to your bother."

She set Dean down and the four year old ran up to Sam's crib.

"Night, Sam." Dean pressed a small kiss to his brother's forehead. Sam wiggled in his crib, making small baby noises.

"Goodnight, love." Mary whispered soothingly to her youngest. She also kissed Sam softly, on his head.

"Hey, Dean." A voice said behind them.

The boy turned excitedly. "Daddy!" He yelled as he ran into his father's arms.

"Hey, bud!" John hoisted him up into the air, letting the boy rest on his him. "So, wha'd'ya think? Think Sammy's old enough to toss around the football yet?"

Dean giggled, shaking his head, "No, daddy."

"No." John laughed out, bouncing the boy slightly.

"Got him?" Mary asked as she passed her boys.

"Yeah, I got him." As John said this, Dean curled up into his chest, slinging his arms around John's shoulders. John rubbed Dean's back as he said, "Sweet dreams, Sam."

The baby looked over at him from the crib. John turned and left the room.

The white house in Lawrence, Kansas was, much like the sun, peacefully falling asleep.

John had tucked Dean into his bed, kissed him good night, and went down to the living room to watch some TV.

Mary, tired from taking care of the boys all day, immediately went to bed; the baby monitor on next to her.

It was that same monitor that woke her up that night. She heard Sam crying through it.

Mary sighed, turning on the lamp, "John?" She asked. When she got no response, she turned to see if her husband was asleep next to her.

Noticing he was missing, she slid out of bed and padded across the hall to Sam's room.

A figure stood over the crib. Mary rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she asked, "John? Is he hungry?"

John didn't reply, or if he did, it was far to soft for Mary to hear. Too tired to argue, Mary simply sighed and turned to head towards the kitchen.

The light of the hall lamp started flickering. It was enough to make Mary pause in her trek for a bottle. She slowly walked up to the lamp. It's light fizzled lazily, trying to stay awake, but not exactly able to.

Mary tapped it with her nail, and the light stilled to brightness.

"Hmm." She hummed. As she turned, she heard some static and distinct voices. She slowly made her way downstairs, her steps illuminated by the television screen. Thinking, maybe John just left it on, she continued her descent. She froze immediately upon seeing John's sleeping, snoring form in their La-Z-Boy.

Two and two were slapped into place like a children's puzzle. Mary scrambled back upstairs, her heart pounding out of her chest in fear and panic.

Someone was in Sam's room. Someone was in Sam's room. Someone has Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. Sam. My baby!

"Sammy! Sammy!" She called as she ran through the hall.

She froze in the doorway at what she saw.

John was awoken with a start at the sound of Mary screaming.

"Mary?" He said, sitting up. The screaming continued. "MARY?!"

He bounded up the stairs like a madman, sprinting towards the sound of his wife's voice.

"Mary." John pushed through the door to Sam's room. The screaming had stopped, no one was there, except for the baby, who was squirming and whining.

John walked up to the crib slowly, his mind racing and his heart drumming in his ears. He slid the side of Sam's crib down as he looked down at his son with fondness.

"Hey, Sammy." He said softly. "Everything okay?"

Sam wiggled, kicking his feet definitely. John watched with ease.

A drop of a dark red liquid landed on Sam's blanket, close to his ear. John reached down to touch it curiously. As he did, another drop, a bigger one, landed on the back of John's hand.

And another.

John stared down at his hand in confusion and suspicion.

He looked up, his mind dropping down his throat, choking the air and any thoughts out of him.

It was Mary. On the ceiling, her hair splayed out haphazardly, her limbs held out at awkward angles. And her stomach was cut open, blood dripping onto the floor and ruining her white nightgown. Her skin was so pale; her eyes wide and missing the spark of life, her mouth open in a gasp.

John's kneels wouldn't work anymore and he fell to the ground, just barely catching himself on Sam's crib. "No! Mary!"

And then, it just got worse.

Flames spread quickly from behind her back, engulfing her in a bath of flames. The fire light up the night, crawling across the ceiling and down the walls. It was so bright, John was squinting; he couldn't tell where Mary was anymore - which was probably a good thing. He didn't want to think about it, but he also just couldn't not think about it. Her skin rotting; her hair curling up into thin, black ashen threads. Her eyes drying out into nothing.

Sam was crying. The sound of his son snapped John back into reality. Forcing his body into action, John got off the ground and plucked Sam from his crib.

He ran out into the hall, where Dean was standing in his pajamas, eyes wide.

"Daddy!" Dean yelled.

John shoved Sam into Dean's hands, yelling, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don't look back!" At Dean's hesitance, he said, forcefully, "Now, Dean, go!"

Dean ran down the stairs as fast as he could, holding Sam close to his body the entire way.

John turned and ran back into the nursery, shouting, "Mary!"

He watched as flames flickered, occasionally showing parts of her; an arm, a leg, a strand of hair. The flames curled up into a horrific ball. "No!"

John wasn't a fool, he knew he couldn't save her.

Dean stood outside, holding Sam, who was crying in his arms.

"Don't try to go back inside, Sammy." Dean whispered, trying to sooth the baby, "Everythin's on fire. It's okay, Sam."

John came out, barely slowing his run as he picked up Dean and held his boys close to his chest while he bolted through their yard. Dean looked over John's shoulder just in time to see Sam's nursery explode into flames.

Once things calmed down slightly, the firefighters were taking care of the mess, Dean was by his side, silent and still, and Sam was in his arms, awake, but not fussy, John had time to think.

What had happened in there…

It wasn't natural.

People don't just end up on ceilings, bleeding and burning.

John was going to find out what happened to Mary.

And he was going to kill the son of a bitch that caused it.

A few months later, at a bar, John overheard two guys, a little younger than him, who were talking about something unnatural. John left Sam and Dean at the diner's table and slid into the stranger's booth.

"Do you mind telling me what you're talking about?" He asked as kind as he could muster before his third cup of coffee.

The two glanced at each other, carefully shuffling his papers out of John's sight. The smaller one of the two said quietly, "Uh, we're talking about World of Warcraft? It's a game."

John stared, unimpressed. He knew he heard the words 'demon' and 'hell fire'. And these two didn't look like nerd by any means. One of them had a tattoo of a star and fire on his wrist, the other was just fucking buff as all get out.

"Sir?" A young, female voice stole his attention. He looked away from the two guys to see a pretty young woman with black hair and blue eyes. She looked over at Sam and Dean with some fondness, and then to the two men across the table with something akin to disgust. "My name is Alex. I heard about your house."

"We're in Oklahoma." John said simply. "How do you know about my house, in Kansas?"

Alex just smiled smoothly, "I can help you. I'll tell you what these two can't."

This is how the Winchesters were thrown into the world of the supernatural.

By the age six, Dean spoke again for the first time in two years.

After Mary's death, he simply refused to talk anymore. He would smile at John, and John would see the same smile that Mary used to have. Dean would watch as sadness filled his father's eyes. And, slowly, Dean stopped smiling.

Not talking was his form of coping.

John would try to coax him into speaking gently. "What do you want to eat for dinner, Dean?"

The boy would just shrug and continue to color.

John gave up after a month. When he spoke, he didn't expect an answer.

For two years Dean was silent. And then, one day after talking to some witnesses, John walked in to Dean talking to Sam.

"I am Sam." Dean said slowly. "Sam I am. Would you like green eggs and ham?"

John didn't move, he stood in the doorway, frozen with shock. How long had Dean been talking to Sam when John left them alone? What would the six year old say to the toddler.

He knew Dean taught Sam how to walk. He held Sam's hands and walked backwards, while Sam followed, staring at his feet.

But he did that, like he did everything, in silence, with small nods of encouragement being the only communication between them.

"Can you say 'yes', Sam?" Dean asked after a moment.

Sam just stared at him.

Dean bit his small lip, "Can you say 'no'?"

Sam shook his head and that made Dean giggle.

"What'd'ya wanna say, Sam?"

John's eyes widened as Sam opened his mouth and said his first word with ease.

"Bean!"

Dean smiled at that. "Dean? You mean Dean?"

Sam nodded pointing to his big brother, "Bean!"

John stepped fully into the motel room, dropping his bag on the floor and closing the door. Dean jumped at the noise. He turned to see his father with wide eyes. His mouth snapped shut and he lowered his gaze.

John was a little disappointed that Sam's first word was 'Dean' and not 'Dad', but he could kind of understand why. Dean was around all the time. John wasn't.

The morning, when he came back with breakfast, he also brought a pile of Doctor Suess books for Dean to read to Sam. The boys were excited for it, and John smiled as Sam sat on Dean's lap while the other read proudly, "I am Sam. Sam I am."

By the age of seven, Dean had traded the better part of his hearing for the skill to hold and shoot a gun.

He mentioned it to his father once.

"You're going to shoot that empty can right there." John said. He had taken Dean out into an empty field for target practice. The adult had placed some empty beer cans on a box about twenty feet in front of them. "And we won't go home until you knock them off the box. Any questions?"

"Why are you so quiet all the time now?" He asked, not yet understanding what was happening to his ears.

John ignored the question and carried on with his instructions, "Keep your shoulders square, no, don't close your eye…"

Dean didn't ask again, assuming it was probably normal. To compensate, he simply turned the TV or radio up louder. He raised his voice more; sat closer to Sam when they were whispering while John was asleep. Dean learned how to read lips.

By the age of ten, Dean had given up his old version of "family" and accepted his new version.

They haven't had a real Christmas since before the fire. When he was younger, John would sometimes buy them a box of candy, or take them to the movies. It was the only time he would spend money - even if it was just a little - on the boys. But once Dean reached the mighty age of seven, John stopped altogether.

Dean asked John for some candy.

"No." John simply replied, continuing to flip through the pages of possible hunts.

Dean frowned, wiggling in his seat. "Why not?"

"You don't need candy anymore. You're seven." John didn't look up from what he was reading. "Seven means you're a big kid. And big kids don't get candy. They help their father take care of their brother."

Dean looked down at Sam, who was playing with a small action figure on the dirty motel floor. When he didn't reply, John nudged Dean and said softly. "You take care of Sam now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir." Dean slid off the chair and sat down next to Sam, who smiled up at him.

By the age of fourteen he had given up the idea of family all together.

Dean's smile was big and dopey. He leaned against the motel door, hands brushing against the other's soft body. The other teen, a tall drink of water named Jamie that Dean had taken a fancy to, couldn't hold back their giggles as they pressed Dean against the door.

"Shh..." He whispered in between their giggles, "Don't wake up my dad."

They giggled again, pressing quick kisses into Dean's neck, "I had a great night." Jamie said, voice soft and sincere.

"Me too." Dean admitted, pulling them closer to himself.

Jamie hesitated, already knowing the answer to their question, "Can... can we do this again? Tomorrow?"

The smile fell from Dean's face instantly, "I can't. I'm leaving tomorrow."

Jamie shifted away from him, "But... You just got here."

"And tomorrow I'm just leaving." Dean's hands dropped from their waist.

"Why?" The other teen's voice was strained. "Why can't you just stay?"  
"It's... it's the family business

." Dean said, looking away from them. "I have to go. Goodbye, Jamie."

"Goodbye, Dean. I hope you can settle down one day."

"Yeah..." Dean murmured. The young hunter pressed a chaste kiss to Jamie's cheek, before quietly slipping into the motel room.

"Who was that?"

Dean jumped sky-high at the voice. Panic slammed into him at the idea of getting caught, but he relaxed once he saw his little brother was the only one in the room.

"Where's Dad?" Dean demanded, panic fading into worry. When Dean snuck out to go on his date with Jamie, John and Sam were fast asleep in their beds.

"He got a phone call. He was mad, left really quick." Sam said quietly. "I thought it was about you, but he didn't even notice you were gone..."

'Must be about the case, then. Guess it's not as done as he thought it was.' The older brother thought warily.

"How long ago was that?" Dean asked, looking out the window carefully. Jamie had already left.

Sam shrugged, "An hour?"

Dean's gaze snapped to Sam, "You've been alone the entire time?"

Sam shrugged again. He then simply asked, "Who was that girl?"

Dean looked away again, a blush crawling up his neck. "They weren't a girl."

"Who was that boy?" Sam asked, just as simply as before.

"Weren't no boy, either." Dean said, his eyes on the ground.

Sam frowned slightly. At ten, he had only known of boy and girl. But there were other humans, ones that didn't fall into those categories. He was curious, but he didn't know how to ask the question. He tried anyway, "Who were they?"

"No one."

"Did ya like them? It looked like you liked them." The smile on his face could be heard in his voice.

Dean flushed bright red at the innocent comment, "God, Sammy, where you watching us?"

Sam nodded and then asked, "Are ya gonna marry them?"

Dean pulled a face, "No, why would I?"

Sam giggled, like he was about to tell a secret, "Cuz you kissed!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "That doesn't mean anything, Sam."

"Yeah it does. Moms and Dads kiss. And Princesses and Princes kiss. Then they get married." Sam has officially, in Dean's book, watched too many Disney movies.

"No. We don't- I won't- get married. Ever. Or have any kids. Or whatever." Dean said aggressively, sulking past Sam.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't want to go through the explanation.

Because I'm a hunter.

Because we always travel; we don't have a home.

Because no one should live this life.

Because there's no way out of this life.

"Because, Sam..." Dean sighed. "You're too young to understand. Just, because."

Because what if they end up like Mom?

By the time Dean was 18, he was the perfect soldier. He shot when John said shoot. And he killed when John said kill. He only doubted John's orders if they put Sam in danger.

He was cold and cruel when it came to monsters.

By the time Dean was 22, Sam had left him.

He wanted out.

Dean couldn't blame him for it. Sam had always yearned for the normal, much more than Dean did. While Dean accepted and conformed to his new life, Sam rejected it. And in doing so, he rejected Dean.

"I want to go to college!" Sam said, exasperatedly, "Get into Stanford, be a lawyer! I want-"

"Stop." John interrupted forcefully, "Stop."

"-to find a girl I love and marry her! Have kids, go to parent-teacher meetings, and soccer games." Sam continued as if John hadn't spoken.

"Stop!" John said louder.

"I want normal!" Sam raised his voice as well.

"Normal died with your mother!" John screamed. "We don't get normal anymore!"

Dean flinched, but Sam didn't. He stared their father down as he said, "We could if we just let this all go."

"Don't you care that your mother's dead?" John asked accusingly.

"Yes, dad, I care. But you've been hunting this thing for eighteen years and you have nothing to show for it." Sam pointed out bravely. Dean's eyes widened. He watched the battle from just a few feet away. No thoughts came to his head as he heard the two throw insults and arguments at each other.

Yeah, the more Sam grew up, the more he fought with their dad, but Dean never expected that Sam would leave because of it.

"If that's how you're going to act, you can just get the fuck out." John yelled.

"I will!"

Dean's eyes followed his little brother as he stormed across the room, grabbed his bag and started stuffing everything he owned into it.

John stood on the other side of the room, still as a stone, he watched as his youngest prepared to walk out on the life he built for them. It wasn't much, admittedly. In fact is was probably one of the worst lives someone could be brought up in. But John - usually - tried his best to give his boys everything they needed to survive.

And then Sam did something that usually doesn't happen in their fights.

He acknowledged Dean.

"Come with me." He said, turning to his brother.

Dean, who usually has a response for everything, didn't know what to do then. He glanced at his father, who looked horrified, and then looked back at Sam.

"I…"

"Please, Dean." Sam said, "You can get a job as a mechanic, I've seen how you fix up the Impala. I know you're smart, you can get a job doing anything."

"...It doesn't work like that, Sammy." His voice sounded so small and scared. He didn't want Sam to leave, but he also couldn't imagine leaving his father. He wasn't like other people, he wouldn't be able to fit in. And the job would catch up to him, he was sure of it. John always talked about how no one got out of hunting alive. "I don't even have a GED. No one will hire me."

"We can figure something out." Sam begged desperately. His eyes were trained on Dean, silently pleading for his big brother to go with him.

Dean couldn't bear it; he had to look away.

His silence was enough of an answer.

Sam nodded, a bit brokenly, and turned toward the door.

John spoke up again, his voice pure venom, "If you walk out that door, don't ever come back."

Sam only paused to turn to Dean, with his heart in his throat, he mumbled, "Goodbye, Dean."

And Dean Winchester watched as his little brother, the boy he practically raised by himself, walked out of his life.

That night, John went to the nearest bar, and drank himself into a stupor. Dean searched the motel room to see if John left any alcohol in his bags, but there was none. The boy, now a man, had no way to numb the pain.

He sat in silence, his knees pressed against his chest, for a long time. John typically didn't let his sons cry. Not only was it heartbreaking to see children cry, but it was also dangerous. Because when kids cry, they wail. They scream and sob and shout. If that happens in the middle of a hunt, or when they're in hiding, it could end horribly.

So John drilled it into Dean's head that crying is for sissies and girls. And when Sam cried, John made it Dean's responsibility to calm him down.

Dean did so the only way he knew how. On this day, alone in a dirty motel room, tears rolled down Dean's face as he calmed himself in the same way he used to calm a crying Sam.

"Hey, Jude…"

After that day, John started taking more and more cases on his own, leaving Dean in motel rooms like he was a boy again.

"What do we got this week?" Dean asked, rubbing his hands together.

"I got a nest of vamps. You got daytime television." John said as he packed his bag for the hunt.

"Oh, come on, Dad. I'm not ten!" Dean argued.

John didn't even bother looking up as he zipped the bag and said, "That's an order."

Dean bit his tongue and nodded. "Yes, sir."

He flinched when the motel door slammed shut.

Now, I don't know why he left Dean alone during some hunts and why he let his adult son come along on others. I have some theories, though.

One is that this was his way to discourage the hunting life. In an attempt to get Dean to take up Sam's offer.

Another was that John was still angry that Dean even considered leaving him, and this was his punishment.

The last was just that John didn't want Dean to see him get completely smashed after every case. John's drinking problem had gone through the roof once Sam left.

Eventually, he must have realized that Dean was simply living in a different jail cell every week. Well, more likely Sam wasn't around anymore, so John didn't need a constant babysitter. He didn't need Dean anymore.

He gave Dean the keys to the Impala.

"Now, listen here." John said sternly, "If there is even a scratch on this car…"

He didn't have to finish the threat; Dean already had the scars to imagine the rest.

"Yes, sir." Dean nodded. He held the keys in his hands, looking down at them.

He knew what this symbolized. Yes, it meant that now he had a badass black 1967 Chevy Impala, but it also meant that John was leaving. Which meant Dean would have to be alone.

This is something I've never understood about humans. They're so eager to be separated. They are pack animals by nature, and yet, as soon as their child is deemed old enough, they essentially kick it out of the pack.

Some children react like Sam, ready to leave and start their own life with their own rules and morals. They see the empty road ahead of them as a trail leading to vast opportunities and experiences; exciting and promising.

Some children react like Dean, with a repressed gulp and hidden fear. Because the empty road means nothing if the car on it is empty as well. Those experiences aren't half as great if they're experienced alone. Dean had grown up always having at least two other people with him at all times. He wasn't prepared for the loneliness that this road would bring.

John left the next morning, before Dean woke up.

For a few weeks, Dean Winchester adapted fairly well.

He continued to hunt, keeping things professional: ganking the monster and split town. Occasionally he'd partner up with other hunters, but it wasn't the same as working with John. And any thoughts of his father only reminded Dean of his brother, which only reinforced how crippling alone the hunter was.

"Good job today." Dean said, patting Kimmi's, a hunter that specializes in werewolves, shoulder. "After we get cleaned up, do you wanna head out and grab a celebratory drink?"

Kimmi glanced at Dean and snorted, "Sorry, pal. I got another case down south."

"Already?"

"I'm a professional." She winked, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "I'll see you around. Tell your father I said hello."

Dean nodded, "Right. Okay."

Dean went out to get a drink anyway, but it was no longer celebratory.

The young hunter learned best from his father, I suppose. He drank himself into a stupor, until his thoughts were no longer about an absent father and a successful brother.

Loneliness was something I never expected with humans. Other creatures experience it too; pack animals, mostly. They get this unexplainable bout of sadness that simply lingers longer than expected. It clogs the mind and darkens the soul. Humans experience it the most painfully, I've learned, they let it hold them down in ways that other creatures don't.

Dean curls around a pillow that night, only achieving sleep with the help of the alcohol.

Those four years would be the emptiest years of his life. Despite everything he would go through in the future, in the end, he would still rate these four years as some of the worst.

He might be being dramatic. It wasn't all bad.

It wasn't like John had completely detached himself from Dean.

There were phone calls and short texts; keeping each other updated and giving each other cases to take.

From Dean: Got a vamp nest taken care of.

From John: And? Go to the next case. New Mexico, chupacabra.

From Dean: Yes, sir. On my way.

Sometimes John would meet up with Dean, or they'd accidentally take the same case.

'Dammit, Dean. I've got this one.' John would say in a hushed FBI voice.

'Well, I had this one first, so it looks like we're in this together, or you're hightailing it outta here.' Dean would hardly be able to hold back a grin.

That was a line Dean would use often. Because John would rather die than refuse a case. So nine times out of ten, he would work with Dean on the case. They'd catch up, get a beer, sometimes find another case together, sometimes not.

The problem with seeing John again was that it got Dean's hopes up.

Every time John would book a motel room for two, a small voice in the back of Dean's mind whispered, 'He won't leave this time.'

But then every time Dean woke up the next morning, John was gone. Bags packed, bed made, parking spot empty.

When he was sober, Dean belittled himself for acting like a clingy girl the morning after. But when he was drunk, he didn't give a fuck. He'd tell how upset he was about the fact to anyone who bothered to listen. Usually it got him some soft, sweet, pitty sex.

Which, he reasoned, everyone needed sometimes.

In those four years, he found Cassie Robinson.

She was kind and spunky, and, more importantly, willing to put up with Dean. They met in Ohio. And Dean was wrapped around her finger faster than you can say called it.

But we'll talk about her later.

Anyway, it was during one of the weeks where John had finished a hunt with Dean. They were packing up their supplies in their respective vehicles. John had ended up hotwiring a reliable, although slightly rusted, truck.

"I, uh, was looking up some possible cases. I think there's this voodoo thing going on in New Orleans." Dean said, taking his time to put everything in the trunk how he liked it.

John glanced at his son, but didn't reply.

Dean licked his lips, "Do you want to come?"

"No." John said, leaning against the side of the truck.

Dean ducked his head to hide his disappointment, "Right. Alright."

"I've got my own case. A road in California." John opened the door to his truck, keys jingling in his hand. "Might be nothing. I'll tell you how it goes."

"Okay." Dean closed the Impala's trunk. "I'll text you about New Orleans. Um, be careful." They didn't typically tell each other that last part. But Dean was hoping it could become a more common expression between them. It would at least be something he could hold onto when he was alone.

John just gave his son a hard look. "Don't mess up my car."

Dean's face fell slightly, "Yes, sir."

The hunter watched his father drive away, wind pulling on his jacket aggressively. As he stood in the cold, Dean could feel a deeper cold sinking into his bones. The hold grasp of aloneness.

Dean knew it well. It wrapped around him without consent and buried its face into Dean's soul; trapping him completely in the embrace.

When John didn't call him after a few days - he should've been at the sight of the case by now - the cold ghost wrapped around him gripped him tighter, dousing any hope of escape.

Dean's texts quickly grew in proximity.

First it was a day apart.

Then once every few hours.

Then once every hour.

Then once every time he looked around and noticed how small a motel room is when it's for only one person.

Eventually, Dean threw his phone against the wall. John ignored him plenty when he was standing right next to Dean, but he had never ignored one of Dean's texts or calls without a good reason. He always replied instantly.

Dean figured he probably just wasn't a face-to-face kind of person.

Once four days had past, Dean had successfully finished his case. He had no more obligations in New Orleans, and he was worried for his father. So he did the one thing he hadn't done in four years.

He ran to Sam.

Dean sped the entire way, making a B line for Stanford. He was able to find which apartment was Sam's easily. He wasn't exactly hiding, because - for four years - he had nothing to hide from.

The elder brother was able to sneak into Sam's apartment without alerting anyone of his presence. Because he's totally a professional.

Dean's foot got caught on the window curtain, he lost his balance and crashed to the ground; on his way down his shoulder slammed into a chair: it scraped across the ground and Dean landed with a loud bang.

So close.

He could already hear Sam's footsteps through the house.

Dean scrambled to his feet and slipped into a hallway. As he snuck throughout the house, his feet occasionally landed on a squeaky floorboard. If he was on a hunt, he would take better care to step lightly. But this was just Sammy, Dean was in no danger here.

As he thought that, a hand snapped out of the darkness to grab his arm. Hunter instincts kicked in as Dean turned swiftly on his heel, shaking the hand loose from it's grip, surprising them slightly as Dean swung his other arm forward to punch them.

They - who Dean was now positive was Sam - grabbed his arm before it made contact, Dean gripped their wrist, twisting their arm around so it was behind them. He wasn't going full-force because either Dean got it wrong (somehow) and this was a civilian's home, or it was Sam. And he didn't want to hurt the former and he definitely didn't want to hurt the latter.

That was why Sam was able to force himself out of Dean's embrace, but before Dean let go completely, he sung Sam around like a shotput, letting go and sending Sam scrambling to stay on his feet. Dean followed, Sam kicked forward, but he missed. Dean pushed his brother through a doorway, stepping into the new room himself.

Sam swung, but Dean was able to block it. In a split decision, he decided - why not? - and aimed a punch right for Sam's cheek. Not a hard one, but it was enough for Sam to step back and let out an annoyed huff.

The younger brother brought his fists up in defense against the other, he lunged forward, but Dean grabbed his arm, swung him around again and ended up pinning him to the floor.

"Woah, easy, tiger." Dean say, mirth in his voice.

Sam instantly relaxed his shoulders, confusion knitted into his brow as he gasped out, "Dean?" Said brother let out a child-like giggle, over joyed with being next to his little brother again. "You scared the crap out of me."

Dean smiled, wide and honest, "That's 'cause you're out of practice."

Sam's face hardened. In a second he had grabbed Dean's arm, used his leg to kick Dean in the back and then use the surprise and momentum of that to flip Dean onto his back. The elder grunted as he landed on the floor he let out another giggle, although this one was slightly pained.

"Or not." Sam patted his shoulder. "Get off me."

Sam helped him up as he said, "Dean, what the hell are you doing here?"

Understandable. Wasn't exactly the reaction Dean was hoping for, but he did just kick his ass, so; understandable. He fixed up Sam's shirt, because that's what he always does; take care of Sam, as he said, "Well, I was looking for a beer."

Then the light clicked on.

"Sam?" A female voice said.

Sam and Dean both snapped their heads to look at the new figure in the room. Sam's expression serious, if nothing else, while Dean's expressed a more surprise-with-a-hint-of-fear look. But his wide eyes calmed when he got a sight of the pretty girl in the doorway.

"Jess, hey." Sam said, turning to say to Dean; who was all eyes on Jess. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica."

Jess stepped further into the room, recognizing the name. "Wait, your brother, Dean?"

He stepped forward, getting a good look at her. She was tall, blonde, and pretty. She wore short pink shorts and a grey crop top with the smurfs on it. Sexy.

"I love the smurfs." He pointed with a cheeky smile. Dean walked up to Jess, looking her in the eyes as he said, "You know, I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league."

"Just, let me put something on." Jess said, slightly annoyed with the stranger's statement of her boyfriend, related or not, it wasn't a good first impression.

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it." Dean said quickly, stopping her from leaving. He took a deep breath, letting out a sincere, "Seriously."

And that makes it even worse. Jess glanced at Sam, who looked apologetic, but used to Dean's antics.

Dean stepped away from her, half-turning to Sam, "Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meetin' you." At the last part, his voice was the kind of soft silk he reserved especially for pretty girls.

Sam glared at him, "No." He glanced at Jess, moving to stand beside her, "No. Whatever you need to say, you can say it in front of her."

Dean gave him a look that read, 'Seriously? What part of Family Business did you not understand?'

He sighed, his expression one of serious determination. "Okay, um, Dad hasn't been home in a few days."

Jess looked at her boyfriend, confused at the significance of this statement. Sam took a deep breath as he said, unconvinced, "So he's working overtime on a Miller time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later."

Dean nodded, mentally agreeing with the spite behind that statement. After a moment, he stared at Sam and said, solemnly, "Dad's on a hunting trip." He paused to let that sink in, "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam didn't break eye contact with his big brother as he said quietly, "Jess, excuse us."

I would say this is where our story begins, but I don't actually know myself where it starts. It's a little far into the story to say that this moment, right now in 2005, is the beginning of said story. I suppose the beginning is different for everyone. You could say the beginning was during that fire on November 2nd, 1983. You could say the beginning is when Dean was born, January 24th, 1979. You could even argue - as many will later - that the beginning of this particular story was when the world began. Or when other events occurred, that we won't mention. This story could've been in progress for billions of years, waiting for the right time to actually unfold. For others still, the beginning has yet to come. The story won't start for many more chapters.

But, I digress.

Sam followed Dean out the fire escape, "I mean, come on, you can't just break in, the middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you."

Dean shook his head, speeding down the stairs, "You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I need you to help me find him."

"Remember the poltergeist in Amherst? Or the Devil's Gates in Clifton?" Sam's hard on Dean's heels, holding the rail as he went, "He was missing then, too. He's always missing, and he's always fine."

Dean stopped at the bottom of the stairs, turning on his brother, "Not this long. Now you gonna come with me or not?"

"I'm not." Sam said firmly.

"Why not?" Dean tried to hide the disappointment from his eyes.

"I swore I was done hunting. For good." Sam said, and he meant it. He had a good life at Stanford. He was studying pre-law, about to get an interview to go into law. He had the girl of his dreams - whom he was madly in love with. He had a safe home, with everything anyone needed to get by. He was happy and comfortable here. Sam had everything he couldn't have while hunting with his family. He was determined to keep it that way.

"Come on, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad." Dean said with an eyeroll, continuing to walk down the alley.

"Yeah?" Sam asked, following his brother, "When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a '45."

"Well, what was he supposed to do?" Dean turned, defending their father. Dean ignored the memories of their mother checking his closet, his bed, his dresser for any signs of monsters. He ignored how she winked and told him he was protected. He also ignored how he did the same for Sam, when John wasn't around.

Sam gave him a hard look, "I was nine years old! He was supposed to say, 'Don't be afraid of the dark.'"

"Don't be afraid of the dark?!" Dean nearly shouted. "What? Are you kidding me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

"Yeah, I know. But the way we grew up after mom was killed. And Dad's obsession with trying to find the thing that killed her." His voice was harsh, trying to prove a point. "But we still haven't found the damn thing. So we kill everything we can find."

Dean nodded, smiling smugly, "Save a lotta people doin' it, too."

Sam lets out a small, humourless laugh at that. He stares at Dean, not surprised at all by his brother's choices. Dean never really had many opinions on the matter, or if he did, they always agreed with John's. And if they didn't, Sam never heard about them. He tried what always got a rise out of Dean, "You think Mom would've wanted this for us?"

Dean turned and pushed his way out of the gate leading up to the parking lot. He hid his anger with his steps. Sam didn't know their mom, but that didn't hide the fact that he was right. From what Dean remembers, Mary was a kind, peaceful spirit who would never hurt a soul.

"The weapon training," Sam continued, following his brother closely, "and melting silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors."

"So what're gonna do? You gonna live some normal, apple-pie life?" He turned, stopping next to the Impala, "Is that it?"

"No." Sam replied calmly, "Not normal. Safe."

"And that's why you ran away." Dean said, his heart sunk at the words. He'd rather be safe than with his family; with Dean. He got the hot chick and the successful future, while Dean got dark motel rooms and silent car rides. Oh, it was totally safe. Normal people die all the time. Safe was with Dean. Dean could protect Sam, he always has and he always will. But not if Sam keeps running away from him. Dean had to look away from his little brother.

"I was just going to college." Sam reasoned, keeping his voice fairly calm. "It was Dad who said if I was going to go, I should stay gone."

At some point, they both had realized that was John giving Sam a way out, and then ensuring that he couldn't come back into the hunting life. By locking the physical door to the hunters' motel room, John had locked the metaphorical door on the hunting life; leaving Sam on the outside, where it's safe. But neither of them brought that up right now.

Sam shrugged, his voice a touch sad, "And that's what I'm doing."

"Yeah, but Dad's in real trouble right now." Dean said, "If he's not dead already. I can feel it."

The former hunter just stared at his brother, his face not giving anything away.

Dean tried another angel, "I can't do this alone."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together slightly, "Yes, you can."

Dean certainly did not pout as he looked away and mumbled, "Yeah… well, I don't want to."

Sam stared at his brother, surprised by the honesty of the words. He took a deep breath, mentally stepping closer to the idea of saying, 'yes' to his brother. "What was he hunting?"

The elder brother tried not to get too hopeful at the thought of Sam joining him, as he opened the trunk of his Baby.

"Alright." He sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Let's see… Where'd the hell I put that thing?" He asked as he opened the case that held all his weapons. He propped it open with one of his favorite guns.

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked from the other side of the car, leaning his arms against Baby like he used to when he was always with Dean and their dad.  
Dean didn't hesitate to say, "I was working my own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing down in New Orleans."

Sam gave him a dubious look, "Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?"

Instead of saying, 'After you left, I did everything by myself.' Dean gave his brother a odd look and said, "I'm twenty-six, dude."

He quickly found what he was looking for and changed the subject. "Alright, here we go." He pulled out a bundle of papers, and skimmed through them. "So Dad was checkin' out this two-lane blacktop just outside Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy -" He hands a new article over to Sam, "They found his car, but he vanished. Completely MIA."

Sam read the headline of the article: 'Centennial Highway Disappearance' and glances at the man in the picture. He looks up at Dean, "So maybe he was kidnapped."

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April." He drops another news article in front of Sam. As he continues, he drops more and more of the papers for Sam to see. Each story is a different person, with the same incident. "Another one in December 'oh-four, 'oh-three, 'ninety-eight, 'ninety-two, ten of them over the past twenty years."

Before Sam can reply, Dean snatches the papers back up, continuing, "All men, all the same five-mile stretch of road." Dean pulls out a small bag and opens it up. Fishing for what he wants, he says, "It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn't heard from him since, which is bad enough…" As he talks, the necklace he always wears dangles off his chest. It catches Sam's eye and something inside him softens. Dean pulls out an old-fashioned recorder from the bag and continues, "And then I get this voicemail yesterday."

Dean presses play and their father's voice cuts through the static. "Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger." Dean clicks it off and turns to look at Sam.

"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam asks almost instantly.

Dean nods in approval, pride noticeable in his voice, "Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?"

Sam shook his head in response, trying to hide his smirk.

"All right." Dean said, switching tapes for the next soundbite. "I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got."

A woman's voice dragged through the speakers, whispering, "I can never go home…"

Dean presses stop on the recorder and puts it down.

"Never go home…" Sam mumbles, thinking through the possible monsters.

Dean nods and closes the case full of arsil, and the trunk, before he turns and leans against it. He lets out his words like they're rushing to escape, but just barely being held back by a thread. "You know, in four years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing."

You know how much that hurt?

You know how many nights I almost reached for the phone?

You know how many times I woke up with your name on my lips, traces of dreams and memories still clinging to my mind?

Do you know how much this one hunt would mean to me?

Sam sighed, looking away, "Alright. I'll go." He nodded slightly, "I'll help you find him. But I have to be back first thing Monday. Just wait here."

Dean nodded as Sam turned to run back to his apartment. He was about to jog off, but Dean's voice stopped him, "What's first thing Monday?"

Sam turned on his heel, letting out a breath as he looked at Dean, slightly apprehensive, "I've an interview-"

"What, a job interview? Skip it." Dean shrugged.

Sam almost shook his head at Dean' s immaturity. He turned so he was completely facing his brother, explaining slowly, "It's a law school interview. And it's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school." It wasn't a question. Dean nodded slightly, tilting his head. He never pictured his little brother as a lawyer. He didn't really want Sam to be a hunter, either. It was a sucky life, and Dean was actually incredibly happy that Sam got out. But it still stung when he wasn't around.

"So we got a deal or not?" Sam asked, his tone even.

Sam packed up his things as quickly as he could, promising Jess that everything was okay as he went.

"But what about the interview?" Jess asked, sitting on their bed.

Sam let out a little huff as he zipped up his duffle, "I'll make the interview." He started to walk towards the bathroom, "It's only for a couple of days."

"Sam, please, just, stop for a second." Jess said, voice growing annoyed. She stood and followed him, her voice softer, she said, "You sure you're okay?"

Sam stepped up to her, gently rubbing her arms, "Hey," he said softly, seriously, "everything's going to be okay, I promise."

He held her gaze for a moment, making sure she understood him. Then, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and turned to go get his toothbrush.

"At least tell me where you're going!" She called after him.

Of course, I'm not talking to idiots.

You know how the story goes; the boys set out, solve the case - it's a Woman in White, nasty bitches, those are - and save the day. Dean is snarky, Sam rolls his eyes. Everyone laughs. They're one step closer to finding out where John is - coordinates he left in his journal for Dean:

35 - 111.

Dean's the happiest he's been in a while, now that Sam is around. They get a run-in with the law. You know, the usual. All's well that ends well.

The family business. They're the heroes of this fairy tale; they always win: slay the dragon, kill the witch, and then they come home to the princess of their dreams.

But this story isn't a fairy tale.

For Dean, the joyride ends when he sees Sam's expression after he says, "We should buy gas, we can make it there by morning."

Sam shifted in his seat, "Dean - I - Um..."

He didn't have to say more. Dean glanced at the road, feeling his heart sink further into his chest, as if it was trying to hide from the truth. He could already feel Loneliness settling into the back seat of the Impala, kicking up its feet for a long, silent ride.

"You're not going." Dean said simply, his face clearly painted with disappointment that was only barely hidden by the dark of the night.

"The interview's in, like, ten hours. I've got to be there." Sam said firmly.

Dean looked out the window, taking a deep breath. He sat up straight and looked back to the road, nodding a few times. "Yeah. Yeah, whatever." He smiled at his brother, "I'll take you home."

He couldn't hold back the pain that he felt when Loneliness tapped his shoulder and reminded him that they were home. The Impala was home. They were each other's home.

Or they used to be.

They spoke a little on their way back to Stanford. Dean not giving any specifics about the past four years, or making something up to make it seem less horrid. Sam spoke about how he met Jess and when they decided to move in together.

Eventually, the Impala stopped outside Sam's apartment.

Dean was silent as Sam climbed out of the beautiful car.

Sam turned and looked at him before he left, saying, "Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

Dean nodded, trying to seem nonchalant. "Yeah, right."

Sam patted Baby's door and walked away.

Dean couldn't watch him walk out of his life again, so he turned the key to start the Impala's engine. It roared to life and hushed Loneliness's whispers.

The older hunter turned to his brother's retreating form, almost yelling, "Sam!"

Sam turned, almost instantly, to look at the other man. He stayed silent, waiting for what the other would say.

"You know, we made a helluva team back there." Dean said, a slight smile on his face.

Sam just nodded, his word flowing out of an exhale. "Yeah."

Dean's shoulders slumped slightly as he turned back to the road, placing his hands on the wheel. As he drove off, the world felt too quiet; the seat next to him missing a familiar body. Loneliness patted his shoulder, not at all comforting the man.

Sam's fairytale ended shortly after.

He sighed as he watched Dean drive away, a part of him wishing he could convince Dean to stop hunting and stay with him.

Instead, Sam trudged upstairs to his apartment. The walk seemed to take longer than normal. Sam opened his door and called into the dark home.

"Jess? You home?" He walked through the room, there was no sign that his girlfriend was there.

He sat on their bed, glancing around the familiar room. Comfort and ease rolled through him in waves. As he flopped back onto the bed, he couldn't help but smile at how the soft comforter is a million times better than the crappy motel beds.

Sam let out a deep sigh, relaxing into the warmth.

A drop of something made Sam shake his head.

Another made him open his eyes.

His face immediately contorted into one of terror and horror at what he saw. Jess's eyes wide, but empty. Her mouth frozen in a mute scream. Her legs and arms twisted painfully; her body glued to the ceiling. But the worst was her stomach; it was slashed through; staining her white nightgown a dark red.

"NO!" Sam shouted, crawling back on the bed. Before he could react any further, Jess's body went up in flames like a bonfire.

Dean kicked down the front door then. He had come back - snuck in his apartment again - in hopes of trying to convince Sam one last time. Then he heard Sam's scream and that plan was the last thing on his mind. "SAM!"

He followed Sam's horrified scream of "JESS!" to the bedroom.

What he was greeted to sent him back 18 years. There was no one to tell him to grab Sam and run, he just knew it by now.

The fire was spreading quickly and soon the whole room was aflame.

"Sam!" Dean yelled.

Sam couldn't get off the bed, he was screaming, covering his eyes, "No, no!"

"Sam!" Dean yelled again. He practically threw Sam off the bed, pulling him out the door. Dean stood in front of him, blocking him from the flames. Sam tried to fight back, to try to save his long-gone girlfriend, but Dean was able to muscle him out.

The shouts of "No! NO!" and "JESS!" overpowered the sound of skin sizzling and wood snapping.

Even long after they got out of the building and the fire was extinguished, everything seemed silent to Sam. His thoughts were now completely focused on avenging his girlfriend's death. When Dean walked up to him, he was checking out the ammo in the back of Baby. He had a shotgun in his hands, while he looked through what had survived four years, what had been upgraded or thrown out.

He decided they had enough to take down the son of a bitch that killed his Jessica.

Dean gave him a careful look as Sam put the gun back.

"We have work to do." Sam said.  
The Impala's trunk slammed shut.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	2. The Bad

I'll skip the dull things, because I can. Generally, people do what I say (sometimes to a fault), and I say let's skip to October 26, 2006 **.** This is where the fun begins. This is where the story _starts to_ begin, not where it actually begins. But more like an extended prologue.

Sam and Dean are still hunting together, it seemed to be the only thing they could do to stay afloat in this sea of insanity. Well, I say that, but in reality, these two men - still basically boys, chubby faced and innocent - are only playing in a puddle of insanity. The tsunami that'll crash into their lives and ruin everything they've built for themselves isn't even yet on the horizon.

But it's coming, steadily creeping closer. Waiting for the chance to start to rain.

But, I digress.

The boys are together, they found their father, but ultimately decided that traveling without him would be safer for everyone involved. Something they should've decided long, long ago.

They're currently in Nebraska, at a little cafe. Each are looking for a new case. Sam on Dean's laptop and Dean looking through the local newspaper.

Oh, but, let me rewind a bit. To a day earlier, October 25, 2006.

There's a man, a hunter, he's very important. We'll talk about his life and impact much later on, but for now, we'll talk about his death. It's much more interesting, anyway.

His name is Daniel Elkins.

He was at a local bar, late one night. This isn't particularly unusual for him; he likes to sit at the end and work on cases while throwing back shots. On this specific night, he was worried; frantically going over his papers, double, even triple, checking his work.

The data was all wrong, something wasn't right. The traces of the population - what little he could make up; basically guesses from hints and sightings; nothing was for sure, it was all just hypothetical - but this stated that there was a congress of them, coming for him. The possible cases that he'd found seemed like they were moving closer to him.

Maybe he was just paranoid.

But he would find a possible case, and by the time he sent a hunter out there to deal with it, they were gone. The cases kept getting closer to him, closing in on Colorado ominously.

"Here you go." The kind bartender, Beth, said as she poured him another drink.

Daniel didn't bother replying as a rowdy group clad in leather walked into the bar. They took the nearest table, gaining all eyes in the room.

"What'll you have?" Beth asked.

"Jack all around, leave the bottle." The woman, who seemed to be in charge of the group, replied coolly.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, "You hungry?"

She's seen what alcohol and an empty stomach does to people, she tries to avoid it as often as possible. Sometimes Beth'll slyly place a bowl of nuts or crackers on the table with the customer's order; subconsciously hinting at them to eat something.

"We have dinner plans." The woman in leather snapped.

Daniel didn't stick around to see the rest of their conversation. He wasn't a fool. Maybe it was just being a hunter all his life, but he could tell when someone's human and when someone's _pretending_ to be human. Sometimes it's obvious. Sometimes it's subtle. Even if it wasn't, Daniel would recognize _this group_ anywhere.

Regardless, he left without finishing his drink.

Driving as fast as he could in the snow, he made it to his house, a wooden cottage, secluded in the woods.

He looked over his shoulder as he unlocked his door. Quickly sliding in and relocking it, he set down his hunter's journal on a cluttered table near the door.

Daniel took deep, calming breaths as he looked at the huge map he'd used to track the locations of recent cases. Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe they didn't know- maybe they didn't see him. Or smell him. Or hear him. They could have just wandered by unknowingly. If he were a bit younger, a bit stronger, he could've taken them out.

There were footsteps behind him.

Shit.

He turned around to see the woman, she had long brown hair and a nasty look in her eyes. They stared at each other warily as she stepped closer to him.

"It's been a while." She said, her voice would've been a calm one, had circumstances been different. Had she been human, she would've had a voice that would be on children's audio books. The kind of voice that you'd want to hear often. But now, for Daniel, this was a voice he was dreading. Her eyes flashed in the dark, similar to that of a wild animal's, as she said, "I gotta say, you look old."

"What do you want?" Daniel asked, shifting as he reached behind him.  
She smiled a wicked grin, replying softly, "What do you think?"

Daniel reacted fast, the words just barely got out of her mouth by the time the knife was lodged into her chest. She stumbled back, not anticipating the attack.

"Damn." She hissed, slowly pulling the knife out of her. It reflected in the moonlight, her blood covering a majority of the blade.

Daniel used the attack as a distraction, he ran out of the room.

"You can do better than that." The monster snickered, eyes flashing again as she followed him.

The old hunter closed the door to his office, and pushed his overflowing bookshelf in front of the door. He then turned and ran across the room to where his safe sat behind the wall. He threw open the secret latch in the wall, quickly spinning the combination to the safe.

"Come on, come on…" He muttered as the monster on the other side of the door started to pound against the wood. She'd get in soon. He pulled out a small wooden box.

Inside it: a gun. A very _very_ special gun.

As he starts to load the bullets into the gun, the pounding on the door starts to get louder. He slides all the pieces together, the gun's fully loaded, but before he can even think about using it, two brutes crash through his perfectly good sunroof.

They jump halfway across the room - fuckin monsters, man, that shouldn't be possible - and tackle Daniel. As they manhandle him against the desk, the woman outside the door finally breaks it down. His bookcase, full of _extremely old, extremely rare_ books, crashes to the ground.

She steps in smoothly, striding up to where the Colt was dropped on the ground. She hums as she picks it up delicately, examining it.

"Nice gun." She smiles. Daniel tries to struggle against the monsters holding him down, but between his age, their super strength, and his impending doom, it's all in vain. The monster keeps talking, "Wouldn't do you much good, of course."

Daniel _almost_ tells her just how powerful that gun actually is.

Almost.

But she carries on, addressing her lessers. "Boys. We're eating in tonight."

He's still alive when they start to eat him.

That leads us to the next day; October 26, 2006.

As I said, Sam and Dean are in a little cafe, looking for possible cases.

Dean sighed as he set down the newspaper. "Alright dude, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska. What've you got?"

"Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota." He said, scrolling through a news website. "Here." He pointed to the screen, despite the fact that Dean couldn't' see it. "A woman in Colorado fell ten thousand feet from a plane and survived."

"Sounds more like 'That's Incredible' than, uh, 'Twilight Zone'." Dean said with a shrug.

"Yeah." Sam sighed, they'd been looking for a case all morning, and most of the night before. Sometimes, believe it or not, it's impossible to find the impossible.

Dean was already talking before Sam could suggest another case. "Hey, you know we could just keep heading east. New York. Upstate. We could drop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick man, smokin'." He whistles, grinning ear to ear. "You two seemed pretty friendly. What do you say?"

Sarah was the girl from the last case they were on. October 9th, 2006. Telesca House.

It was a good time.

Dean just wanted his brother to be happy, throwing dates at him was the best way Dean knew how to do that.

Sam let out an embarrassed huff, rubbing his ear slightly, "Yeah, I dunno, maybe someday. But in the meantime we got a lot of work to do Dean, and you know that." One thing that Sam got from his father, was his stubbornness and his determination.

Dean shook his head, but eventually muttered, "Yeah, you're right. What else you got?"  
"Uh, man in Colorado, local man by the name of Daniel Elkins, was found mauled in his home." Sam read off the computer.

Dean stared into the space, concentrating hard. "Elkins. I know that name."

"Doesn't ring a bell." Sam replied. "Sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first they said it was some sort of bear attack and now, they've found some signs of robbery."

His brother wasn't really listening anymore. His mind was still set on Elkins. Muttering the name under his breath, he went through a mental check list.

Not someone famous.

Not someone he slept with.

Not a common name.

Not a hunter.

Wait. Maybe the last one.

Dean pulled out John's journal.

It's a great thing, that journal. Every hunter has one. It keeps them safe. It keeps them sane. When John first started hunting, that girl that walked up to him gave him this very journal. It was blank then. Now it's full of words written throughout many years of hunting. Irreplaceable knowledge that every hunter needs to know.

Dean flips through the early pages, until he finds a page that just has names and phone numbers on it. "Hey." He said, handing the book to Sam. "Check it out."

 _D. Elkin_

 _570-555-1058_

Something, maybe an address, was scribbled out right under it.

Sam glanced from the paper to Dean, and back again. "You think it's the same Elkins?"

"It's a Colorado area code." After years of traveling, being in the family business, changing phones, etc. You tend to learn the area codes.

Dean raised his eyebrows in a challenge, and soon they were on their way.

There wasn't any police tape on the door.

Shoddy work, Colorado.

"Looks like the maid didn't come today." Dean said as he walked towards the living room.

Sam crouched down by the front door, looking at what could've been snow, but obviously wasn't. "Hey, there's salt over here." Sam calls, loud enough for Dean to hear, "Right beside the door."

"You mean, like, protection against demon salt, or 'oops I spilled the popcorn' salt." Dean asked, flicking through Elkin's journal. It had a similar format to their dad's. He was tempted to keep it. Actually, why don't they keep the journals of dead hunters? Shouldn't that be a thing? I don't know, just suggesting!

"It's clearly a ring." Sam said, more to himself than to Dean. "You think this guy, Elkins, was a player?"

"Definitely."

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder at the journal. "That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's."

"Yeah, except this dates back to the 60s." Dean replies, turning another page.

The boys wandered into the trashed office, glass and papers were everywhere. They shone their flashlights up at the broken sunroof.

"Whatever attacked him, looks like it was more than one." Sam decided.

"Looks like he put up a helluva fight, too."

"Yeah."

They look around the room. Dean kicks a small, wooden box. He steps on it to right it, and shines his light at it. It's an empty gun box, thirteen bullets missing. Dean mostly shrugs it off and walks further into the room, some splots of blood catch his eye. He crouches down to get a better look at them.

"Got something?" Sam asks from the other side of the room.

"I dunno. Some scratches on the floor." Dean replies, running his fingers over them.

"Death throes, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe." Dean mutters, snatching some paper and a pencil from Elkin's desk. He's dead, he won't mind. Dean plonks the paper down on over the scratches and presses it flat. He then uses the pencil lead to get an outline of the imprint. Sam looks around the room while Dean works. When he's done, he picks up the paper - the backside is covered in blood - and looks it over. "Or maybe a message."

Realization dawns on Dean and he hands the paper over to his brother. "Look familiar?"

"Three letters, six digits. The location and combination of a post office box." Sam says, decoding the message easily, "It's a mail drop."

"Just the way Dad does it." Dean mutters.

I don't mean to spoil it or anything, but it was a letter.

The boys sit in the Impala, looking over the address to it.

"'J.W.' You think? John Winchester?" Sam asked.

"I dunno. Should we open it?" Dean replied. Before they had the chance to decide, a pounding on the door startled both of them.

Dean gasped, his arms automatically raised to protect himself, fists clenched, and his head whipped around only to see John standing outside the door, grinning at the fact that he scared the boys.

"Dad?" Dean asked as John climbed into the back of Baby.

"Dad, what are you doing here? Are you alright?" Sam's voice always got tight when John was around.

John nodded, sounding tired, but otherwise fine. "Yeah, I'm okay. I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you two at his place."

"Why didn't you come in, dad?" Sam asked softly, shaking his head. He never understood his father, sometimes.

"You _know_ why." John replied. "Because I had to make sure you weren't followed…" He looked both his boys in the eye to emphasize, "By anyone. Or anything thing." He added, as an afterthought, "Nice job of covering your tracks by the way."

Dean let the tiniest of smiles grace his face. It wasn't often John praised them. On anything. Humbly he mumbled, "Yeah, well, we learn from the best."

"Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam asked.

John nodded, softly replying, "Yeah… He was… He was a good man. A friend of mine introduced us. ...He taught me a helluva lot about hunting."

"You never mentioned him to us." Sam said.

His name was all over the first few pages of John's journal.

' _May 2, 1984:_

 _Sammy is a year old. We spent his birthday in the mountains, because X is making me meet a guy named Daniel Elkins.'_

' _X swears Elkins is the best in his field…''_

' _...Elkins is such a hermit…'_

' _Daniel says they're extinct…'_

Regardless, reading about someone and meeting someone are two very different things. The boys would've preferred to have at least been told about Elkins through something other than John's diary.

"We had a... we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years." John said. Then, almost whispering, he gestured to the envelope, "I should look at that."

Dean hands it to him, John opens it and starts to read.

"'If you're reading this, I'm already dead' ...That son of a bitch." John said, scanning the pages.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"He had it the whole time." John said, his voice strained.

"Dad, what?" Sam asked, tired of his vagueness.

"When you searched the place, did you, did you see a gun? An antique, a Colt revolver, did you see it?" John said. He was looking from Sam to Dean and back again.

"Ah, there was, there was an old case but it was empty." Dean replied, thinking back to the wooden box.

"They have it." John said, sure of himself.

"You mean whatever killed Elkins?" Dean asked.

John was already starting to get out of the Impala, "We gotta pick up the trail."

Sam and Dean shared identical confused looks. Sam leaned over Dean as he asked out the window, "Wait. You want us to come with you?"

"If Elkins is telling the truth, we've gotta find this gun." John replied, holding onto the window.

"The gun- why?" Sam asked.

"Because it's important. That's why." John snapped.

Dean sat silent through this, looking from Sam to their father, watching the little spat. This had a painful sense of deja vu to it.

"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet." Sam reasoned.

"They were what Daniel Elkins killed best. Vampires." John explained.

"Vampires?" Dean spoke up for the first time. "I thought there was no such thing."

Dean actually distinctly remembers when John told him there were no such thing as vampires. It was when John first started hunting.

"You never even mentioned them, Dad." Sam said.

Anyone ever notice that Sam says 'dad' a lot? Like _a lot_ a lot? I think it's because he has psychological abandonment issues, not as bad as Dean, since he did the _abandoning_ and Dean was the one being _abandoned_. But, whatever.

"I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and - and others had wiped them out." John took a deep breath, saying the last part solemnly. "I was wrong."

Okay, now, see, here's why they should've picked up Elkins' journal. It showed sightings, hints, cases, involving the vampire population. Including that one group that came by to kill him. Important information, right there, free for the taking!

If you could hear Elkins now, he agrees with me, next time, _take the damn book!_

It says in Elkins' journal, that he had John copy down at least twice:

' _Crosses won't repel them, and sunlight won't kill them, neither will a stake to the heart. They can go outside. They need blood to survive, and prefer human blood, but can survive on other mammals if there are no humans around. The only way to be sure of killing them is beheading - although the blood of a dead man is like poison to them. It won't kill them, but it weakens them, makes them slow and sick. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late.'_

John woke the boys up later that night after listening to the police radio. "A couple called 911, found a body in the street. Cops got there everyone was missing. It's the vampires."

Sam sat up and asked, "How do you know?"

"Just follow me, okay?" John replied, annoyed. Dean never questioned how John knew something. He just went along with it. Sam questioned everything John did. It really was obnoxious.

Sam rolls his eyes, but still gets up and puts his jacket on.

"Huh. Vampires. Get's funnier every time I hear it." Dean muttered, still half asleep.

Better get used to it, Deanie.

At the crime scene, John went up to talk to the police alone.

As he walked back, Sam muttered, sulking, "I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him."

"Oh, don't tell me it's already starting." Dean groaned, he was hoping they could have some peace a little longer.

"What's starting?" Sam asked, annoyed.

Dean turned to John and asked, "What have you got?"

John stopped in front of his sons, "It was them all right. Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam asked.

"Sam-" Dean tried.

Sam cut him off, "I just wanna know we're going in the right direction."

He looked back at John, a challenge. John stared his son down, unfazed.

"We are." John stated.

"How do you know?"

John pulls something out of his pocket and hands it to Dean, saying, "I found this."

"It's a...a vampire fang." Dean said, holding the little bone between his fingers.

"Not fangs, teeth. The second set descends when they attack." John informed. Dean looked up at him, nodding. John looked over at Sam, his expression hard, "Any more questions?"

Sam looks away, silent.

"All right, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight." John said, walking towards his truck.

Dean smiles, fiddling with the tooth, still in his hand, as he and Sam walk to the Impala's doors.

As John passes the Impala, he calls, "Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it."

The smile falls off Dean's face instantly, he looks down at his car, ashamed. They've been, well, okay, not _busy_ , but, he just, he hadn't found a good place to clean her. He, he probably should've. He definitely should've. Could've gone out of his way to fix her up...

Sam was just glad John verbally attacked Dean instead of him again.

Baby wasn't even all that dirty. John just knew Dean wouldn't fight back.

In the car, Sam drove while Dean read from John's journal.

 _Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks._

"I wonder if that's what happened to that 911 couple." Dean muttered.

"That's probably what Dad's thinking." Sam replied. Then, grumbling, he added, "Course it would be nice if he just _told_ us what he's thinking."

Dean looked up at his little brother, "So it is starting."

His heart sank at those four words. Of course they wouldn't be peaceful. Oh, god, what if Sam left again? He's not going to leave, where would he go? Back to Stanford? Probably. With no Jess? Maybe.

John would leave too, once they get the gun or kill this thing.

Then Dean would be alone again.

"What?" Sam asked, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

"Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple of hours and there's static already?" Why couldn't Sam just _understand_?

Sam lets out an annoyed huff. "No. Look, I'm happy he's ok, all right? And I'm happy that we're all working together again."

"Well, good." Dean muttered.

Sam couldn't help himself from continuing, "It's just the way he treats us, like we're children."

"Oh, God." Dean groaned.

Sam had a point, but Dean was going to stubbornly ignore it. Dean was treating them almost exactly how he treated Dean once Sam left. Like a child; baggage that he was obligated to take with him. Not a person, not even a tool. Just an unnecessary waste of space.

Dean always pushed that feeling of uselessness to the back of his mind. But with Sam constantly pointing it out, it was a little hard to ignore.

"He barks orders at us Dean, he expects us to follow 'em without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal." Sam was getting really fired up about this. His voice was loud and furious.

Dean keeps his voice level as he says, "He does what he does for a reason."

"What reason?" Sam immediately challenges.

"Our job!" Dean snaps back. Sam scoffs. "There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, all right? That's just the way the old man runs things."

People tend to forget that John actually fought in a war.

Vietnam.

He learned exactly how wars are fought and soldiers are trained. There's no questions. There's no hesitation. He taught Dean how to hunt the same way his commanding officer taught him how to fight.

"Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, all right. Not after everything you and I have been through, Dean. I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line, and letting him run the whole show?" Sam looked away from the road to give Dean a hard look.

Dean hesitated, but when he spoke, his words were serious and quiet. "If that's what it takes."

The 'what it takes' was kind of up in the air.

What it takes to keep Sam alive.

To keep Dad happy.

To keep Dean uninjured.

To kill the monster of the week.

What it takes.

Anyway, back to the vampires.

They can hear heartbeats. And oh, were those two humans they had tied up beating. Like a drummer on a sugar high. It was a beautiful, _delicious_ sound.

The woman who was in charge of this little nest, Kate, had a mate named Luther. Around him, she was a giddy little teenager. It was quite sweet. Something I love about vampires: they mate for life.

It was an interesting concept, actually. Humans were already too far into their evolutionary process to just add in the trait of soulmates. But vampires. They just started growing, evolving, learning. We could easily drop a touch of commitment into their DNA and, boom, like little bloodthirsty penguins, they had a One and Only.

Cool, right?

So, while Kate and Luther made out like horny teens, the rest of the nest sank their teeth into the male human. They kissed to the sound of him screaming. How romantic.

After a little bit, Kate showed Luther their prizes. The, the inanimate prizes. Not the humans.

Most of it was just some junk. Money from the couple. Postcards. Jewelry. But they also grabbed some stuff from Elkins' house. Books. Maps. The Colt.

Oh, oh, oh.

Here's the funny part. I love it when this happens.

If the vamps never took the gun, John wouldn't've come after them. And they'd all still be alive.

How great is that? Right?

It's like, if Sam was never born, Mary wouldn't've died.

Funny how the world works, isn't it?

Cause and effect. It cracks me up!

Luther was all pissed at Kate for endangering herself and killing Elkins, because now the hunters were coming. And in the world of the supernatural, the monsters were the Indians and the hunters were the cowboys.

Sam and John fought again.

If Dean didn't get between them, it would've ended in a fist fight in the middle of the road.

With every hate-filled word they spit at each other, Dean's world broke a little more. Why couldn't it go back to the way it was? Before Sam left for college, when things weren't perfect, but they were good enough.

I should probably mention that vampires can do this really cool thing. You've probably heard of it from Dracula movies or the like. But it's actually true.

They can turn humans into vampires.

Yup. Completely rewrite their DNA.

Upgraded a monster of the night, new teeth and everything.

And it's not that hard of a process to do, either. A little vamp blood here, a little bloodlust there, and ta da! New member of the nest.

Kate turned that woman. It was… entertaining.

By morning John and the boys had found the nest. They were staked out in the big, old barn. They watched as Luther let another vamp into the barn. In broad daylight.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, "So they're really not afraid of the sun?"

John watched the barn as he replied, "Ahh, direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn." He doesn't tell the boys how he knows that piece of information. "The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day - doesn't mean they won't wake up."

"So I guess walking right in's not our best option." Dean replies.

"Actually, that's the plan." John looks at his sons.

Somehow, they weren't surprised by that answer.

Once inside, John went off looking for the Colt, while Sam and Dean tried to find the woman from the 911 call.

The barn was dirty and cramped; vamps were all asleep in these ratty looking hammocks. And there were a lot of them.

Dean found a cage full of humans, blood slaves, that were laying on the floor; some were asleep, some were unconscious.

Sam went to work untying the woman. She started to wake up while he was unknotting the ropes.  
"Hey." He whispered to her. "Hey hey, shh, I'm here to help you."

He's such a good human. Not very smart though. See, the 911 woman was covered in blood. And it wasn't her own. If Sam had been paying more attention, put two and two together, he would've realized she wasn't human anymore.

The noise she let out was one of the most monstrous noises the boys had heard thus far. She screeched at the top of her lungs, like a bat out of hell. And, of course, this woke up everyone in a five-mile radius.

Sam and Dean heard John yell, "Boys, run!" and that was all the instruction they needed. The brothers bolted out of the barn, vamps on their heels. They ran far into the woods, only stopping once they couldn't hear the footsteps of anyone following them anymore.

They looked back into the woods, trying to spot their father. Surely he followed them, right? The vamps wouldn't get him, right? ...Right?

"Dad?" Dean called out. When there was no answer, he yelled again, "Dad!"

Dean let out a breath of relief when he saw his father climb out from the trees. Sam and Dean turned, ready to start running again, but John stopped them.

"They won't follow." He said, "They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire has your scent, it's for life."

And they're impossible to get rid of.

"Well what the hell do we do now?" Dean asked.

John sighed, frustrated with the turn of events. "You gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what."

Later that night, Sam paces their motel room while John sits at a desk, going through his journal. Dean's out getting dead man's blood.

After a while, John says softly. "Sammy."

"Yeah?" Sam stops pacing and stands in front of his dad.

"I don't think I ever told you this but ... the day you were born, you know what I did?" John's voice is gentle. Or the gentlest Sam's ever heard it.

"No."

"I put a hundred bucks into a savings account for you. I did the same thing for your brother." He paused, licking his lips. "It was a college fund. And every month I'd put in another hundred dollars, until... Anyway my point is, Sam, this is never the life that I wanted for you."

Sam always asked the important questions. Ever since he was little. When he asked a question, it was always a good one. "Then why'd you get so mad when I left?"

And, wow. The emotions that shot through John at just that. He tried to explain, he really did.

"You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive."

Sam couldn't look away from his father during this confession.

"I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant." John knew even that was an understatement. But admitting how terrible he was out loud is extremely hard for him. It's easier because it's Sam, if he was talking to Dean, this would be a bit of a different story. He was always… _kinder_ to Sam.

"So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me - We're just different." John finished.

Sam huffs a laugh.

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "What?"

Sam replies, bittersweetly, "We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess…" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Well, we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone."

"I guess you're right, son." John smiles.

After a beat, Sam asked, "Hey, Dad? Whatever happened to that college fund?"

John replied simply, "Spent it on ammo."

They look at each other for a moment. The air is tense until Sam cracks up laughing and it doesn't take long for John to see the humor in it too. And for a moment, everything was right in the world. They weren't arguing. They weren't hunting. They were just father and son, laughing about the cards they were dealt.

They were a family.

But the hunt continues.

And Dean's bait! He's practiced at it; John's been using him as bait since he was 11, same year he got his first gun.

So as Dean leans over Baby, pretending to not know how to fix her, he smiles to himself when he hears someone walking up behind him.

"Car trouble?" A woman asks. Dean turns to see Kate smiling at him. "Let me give you a lift. I'll take you back to my place."

Getting hit on by monsters might actually be worse than getting hit by monsters, in Dean's opinion.

"Nah, I'll pass." He says, grinning. "I usually draw the line at necrophilia."

"Oh!" Kate coos, she loves the snarky ones. Their blood always tastes a bit bitter. She likes to mix it into her coffee. The vampire back hands Dean, leaving his skin stinging wildly. The force of it actually knocks Dean to the ground. Vampires are strong, man.

Another vamp approaches them as Kate lifts Dean into the air, holding him by just his jaw.

"I don't usually get this friendly until the second date, but…" Humor is Dean's defense mechanism. And, boy, was he defensive right now.

Kate smiles as she replies, "You know, we could have some fun. I always like to make new friends." She lowers him to her level and kisses him, still holding his cheeks tightly.

When she pulls away, Dean grunts out, "Oh- whuf. Sorry. I don't usually stay with a chick that long. Definitely not eternity."

Before Kate could reply, the vamp that was watching took an arrow to the knee. Oh, wait, no, that arrow shot him right in the heart. Sorry. Anyway, she wasn't long after. She let go of Dean, turning to glare at whoever shot her.

"Dammit." She growls as she looks down at the arrow sticking out of her chest.

John and Sam climb through the bushes then, each holding a crossbow in their hands.

"It barely even stings." She said to John.

The eldest hunter replied easily, resting his crossbow on his shoulder. "Give it time sweetheart. That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood." He watched as her expression turned shocked, and then darkened. "It's like poison to you isn't it?"

Dean caught her unconscious body before it hit the ground. As he went to load her into the Impala, John beheaded the other vamp. They didn't break eye contact until the machete went straight through the vamp's neck.

They set a trap for the rest of the nest using Kate.

John wanted that gun. And Kate's mate would come after her once he caught her scent.

"A half hour oughta do it." Sam said, once everything was set up. He was talking about how long they had until the vamps would be able to find them.

John replied sternly, "And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can."

"But…" Sam started, confused.

Dean interrupted, concern in his voice, "Well, Dad you can't take care of them all yourself."

"I'll have her. And the Colt." John shrugged it off.

Sam's voice was tense as he said, "But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun _together._ Right?"

There was a long pause, where John wouldn't answer. Believe it or not, but he didn't lie to his sons often. He wouldn't answer questions. But he didn't lie.

Sam already knew where this was going. "You're leaving again ,aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?" John asked.

"Like children." Sam spat.

John's voice was hard as he said, "You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe."

Dean replied for Sam could. "Dad, all due respect but, uh, that's a bunch of crap."

Sam's eyes widen in shock and for a moment, John is speechless. Dean just called out John on something? It must be the end of the world.

But this was one comment John wouldn't get away with. Only trying to keep them safe? Yeah, right. Sure, _sometimes_ he was a protective parent. But Dean started learning how to hunt when he was ten. The next year he was used as bait for the monster of the week. He has so many bruises and scars from-

If John wanted to keep them safe, he should've done some things different. No hunting. No guns. ...No late-night bar visits.

John didn't see it that way, though. It was obvious in his tone. "Excuse me?"

Dean wasn't going to say all _that_ , though. So instead, he replied with, "You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

John rolled his eyes, "It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

And for once, it's Sam watching Dean argue with John. Only, this argument has a lot less yelling and a lot more pain.

"This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."

"You mean you can't be as reckless."

"Look... I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death ... it almost killed me." Dean had to look away at the mention of it. He still remembers it. All of it. The early days, when John was a complete wreck. "I can't watch my children die too. I won't."

"What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, and we coulda done something about it? You know I been thinking. I ...think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together."

Sam nods, but doesn't say anything.

Dean fights to keep his voice even as he says, "We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it."

John's voice is quiet when he mutters, "We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order."

Dean looks down, furious and hurt and disappointed. Sam clenched his jaw as he watched John walk off. Family. Yeah, right.

John had Kate in the truck with him, he was driving down the road, with the vamps right on his tail. A good, old-fashioned car chase.

Dean went back to the barn to get those humans from the cage. He easily decapitated the only vamp that was there. And quickly went to unlock the cage.

The vamps got in front of John, blocked the road. He climbed out with Kate in ropes, a knife to her neck, and offered a trade. The monster for the weapon.

It was easy. John thought. Luther wouldn't put his mate in danger. So, of course. He dropped the gun and stepped away.

But when John went to pick the Colt up, things went sour.

Kate still had a lot of energy left in her. Fight or flight, you know? She elbowed John in the face and he fell against the impala, hittin his head on the concrete as he did. Luther picked him up, and punched him hard, sending John crashing into the window of his truck. Glass littered the ground as his body plummeted to the concrete again.

The vamps smiled as they stepped up to the fallen hunter. High from their victory, they didn't hear or smell the hunters that were in the trees just feet away. They weren't prepared for when an arrow flew straight into one of their chests.

The vamps watched as one of their own choked on the dead man's blood, grasping at the arrow helplessly. And then the hunters came.

Dean shot another vamp easily, but Luther had overpowered Sam's punching him in the face. Dean grabbed the machete that John had dropped and stood, ready to swing, in front of the monster and his brother.

"Don't." Luther warned, his arm flexing against Sam's throat, "I'll break his neck."

Dean froze, because everything in his mind did a U-Turn from 'killthevampkillthevampkillthevamp' to 'protectSamprotectSamprotectSam' in an instant.

Sam grunted as he gasped for breath and Dean held out his hand, slowly lowering the machete.

"You people." Luther said between his teeth. "Why don't you just leave us alone? We have as much a right to live as you do."

The reply came from behind the vamp, "I don't think so."

Luther turned, twisting Sam's beanstock of a body easily as he looked at John. With no pretense, the hunter held up the Colt and shot the vampire right in the forehead.

The vampire let go of Sam - Dean quickly pulled him away to safety - and fell to his knees. His entire body was shocked as the blood slowly ran down his nose. A very special gun just killed a very unimportant vampire.

The only reason Kate is still alive is because her friend pulled her to their car and quickly drove off.

There was only two of them now. They lost their family today.

Later that night, John walks into their motel room. "So boys."

They knew this was coming. Sam and Dean stood at attention, Sam spoke quietly, "Yes, sir."

"You ignored a direct order back there." John said simply, the threat easy to distinguish in his voice.

"Yes, sir." Sam said again.

Dean interrupted before either one of them could continue, "Yeah, but we saved your ass."

Sam looks sideways at Dean,eyes wide. John stares Dean down, and the younger hunter swallows, suddenly doubting his comment.

"You're right." John said finally.

"I am?" Dean tries to keep his face expressionless.

John nodded, "It scares the hell out of me. You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing. Together."

Both the boys said together, "Yes, sir."

And there it was. Everyone in that room could look at the other two and be sure that they had their back. There was no hate between them anymore; no words left unsaid. They were a family again.

Winchester and Sons.

At your service.

The family business.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	3. The Good

The next time the boys encountered vampires: John was dead, the Impala had been destroyed and then restored, and the boys just recently befriended Jo and Ellen Harvelle. The boys are once again travelling and hunting on their own. It's more peaceful now that John wasn't around to argue with Sam or belittle Dean. But his death did hang in the air around them; occasionally suffocating them during the silent moments.

This was not one of those moments.

It was one of the rare times when Dean was positively giddy. He was behind the wheel of his Baby, headed to Red Lodge, Montana. His little brother was at his side, bobbing his head along to ACDC. And! They had a case.

Cow mutilations. And beheadings! This had Satanic written all over it.

The sheriff didn't seem to think so.

He kicked the boys out of his office after a short interview regarding the murders. When asked about the cows, the sheriff brushed it off.

"There's no such thing as cow mutilations," he dismissed.

Normal people dismiss the unimaginable so easily.

Following the normal investigation routine, the boys headed to the morgue to check out the beheaded bodies. Dean was able to scare off the intern, leaving them alone in the morgue with dead bodies. Ten points for the professional liars!

Now, sometimes satanic bastards, or really fucked up kids, will stuff things down their victims throats. Whether it's to keep the victim quiet, or part of some bullshit ritual doesn't matter. But seeing if there is something gagging the vic can sometimes help in figuring get out just how intense of guys the boys will be dealing with.

"Dean get me a bucket." Sam said as he inspected the head of the dead girl.

"You find somethin'?" Dean asked, leaning closer to take a look.

"No. I'm gonna puke." Sam looked away from the head, his hands shaking as they withdrew from the girls mouth.

Dean paused, "Wait, lift the lip again?"

"What? You want me to throw up, is that it?" Sam grumbled.

"No, no, no, I think I saw something." Dean said as he pulled back the girl's lip. "What is that, a hole?"

What kind of creature just randomly has a hole in it's gum?

Dean roughly pressed against the gum and a long, narrow tooth slid out from the top of the gum. Oh. That kind of creature.

"It's a tooth." Sam observed, slightly confused.

"Sam, that's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs." Dean removed his hand, groaning. "You gotta be kidding me."

"Well, this changes things."

"Ya think?"

They weren't victims. They were monsters. There were monsters in this town, and someone was hunting them down. That should've made things easier. Somehow, it only made things worse.

Gordon Walker was a monster. Vamps thought so, humans thought so, I thought so. If you could see his soul, you would be disgusted by the swirling dark abyss that hung in his chest. Gordon Walker is what happens to someone when they let the life take over their life. Gordon Walker is a demon without black eyes.

And Dean was spilling his heart to him.

"Sorry about your sister." Dean mumbled after Gordon explained how he got into the life.

"Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know? The way she was." "But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad. It's gotta be rough."  
"Yeah. Yeah, you know. He was just one of those guys. Took some terrible beatings, just kept coming. So you're always thinking to yourself, he's indestructible. He'll always be around... _nothing can kill my dad_. Then just like that," Dean snaps his fingers, "he's gone. ...I can't talk about this to Sammy. You know, I gotta keep my game face on."

The older Winchester has had it drilled into his head that tears is weakness and no one needs that hanging around them, least of all Sam. So Dean always puts on a brave face. Because that's what Sam needs.

Dean clears his throat, looking away from the other hunter, "But, uh, the truth is I'm not handling it very well. Feel like I have this-"

"Hole inside you?" Gordon interrupts, "And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker?" At Dean's nod he continued, "Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job."

After a few quiet moments of Dean contemplating Gordon's statements, the crueler hunter commented, "You know why I love this life?"

"Hmm?" Dean hummed, looking up at Gordon.

"It's all black and white. There's no maybe. You find the bad thing, kill it." Gordon nodded, satisfied with the life he lives, "See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong? Not us."

"Not sure Sammy would agree with you, but uh…" Dean trailed off. He was about to agree with Gordon, but the other hunter cut him off.

"Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us." Gordon comments. At Dean's startled look, he quickly clarifies, "I'm not saying he's wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. _It's in our blood_."

John would agree.

 _November 14, 1985,_

 _Took Dean shooting. If he's big enough to try to comfort me, he's big enough to start learning the tools of the trade. I only let him let him fire the .22, but he is a deadeye marksman. My drill sergeant would have taken him over me in a second. Times like this, I sure am proud of my boy. I have a feeling it'll be different with Sammy. Maybe he's just too young to show it, but I don't think he's got the same kind of killer instinct._

Dean was six when John wrote that. Even back then, at least, according to his father, he was a cold-stone killer. And Sam, precious baby Sam, simply was not. He needed to be protected, because he wouldn't be able to shoot first, ask questions second like Dean could.

That's probably why the vampires took Sam.

But see, these vampires were different.

They were a dying breed.

Because of people like Daniel Elkins and Gordon Walker and just about any other hunter with a machete, vampires were quickly falling off the map. If things didn't change, they'd soon be the dodo birds of the supernatural world. These creatures, humans with fangs, that's all they were, would all be gone.

That's what Lenore, the lead vamp of this pack, was trying to explain to Sam.

"We're not like the others. We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time." Lenore said to a tied-down Sam.

The hunter rolled his eyes, "What is this, some kind of joke?"

"Notice you're still alive." Lenore bit quickly.

"Okay, uh, why?" Sam asked, shifting in the chair slightly.

"Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in. Our kind is practically extinct." She paused, her voice full of pain as she mumbled, "Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined."

They used to be.

Vampires used to be on the top of the world, no one knew how to hurt them, no one knew how to kill them. Then the hunters rose up from the crowds. And vampires had to learn how to watch their backs; cover their tracks. Gone were the times of the Alpha freely walking down the street with Dracula and Carmilla at his side. Gone where the peace times.

The oldest of the vampires know the transition well.

From happiness to fear.

Joy to panic.

Hunters to being hunted.

"What's done is done. We're leaving this town tonight." Lenore said in finality.

Sam couldn't help but ask, "Then why did you bring me here? Why are you even talking to me?"

Lenore spoke with authority, the kind of tone that is earned over years of making hard decisions, "Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind. Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us. It doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us."

"So you're asking us not to follow you." Sam clarified.

"We have a right to live. We're not hurting anyone." Lenore said, crossing her arms.

"Right, so you keep saying, but give me one good reason why I should believe you." Everything inside Sam was telling him to run. This thing wasn't human. It drank blood. And it had him trapped. He was vulnerable. John would kill him if he saw this.

"Fine." The vampire leans close into Sam's face. "You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you go."

And she did.

Her vamps put a sack over Sam's head and dropped him right off where they picked him up. Not a single hair misplaced on his head.

Sam's mind swirled in shock and confusion.

A monster that wasn't monstrous.

Jesus _Christ_.

Convincing Dean that these vampires were good was just about as hard as a pornstar's dick in the middle of filming a particularly exciting video.

"What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job." The hunter was practically shouting in the motel parking lot.

"No, Dean. That is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!" Sam argued.

"Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them." Dean was sticking to his perspective because if he, just for a second, saw it Sam's way, that would ruin everything he's ever been taught.

"No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time." Sam said.

Dean was determined to stick with what he knew. And what he knew was shoot first, ask questions later. Black and white, no gray. They're the hunters, they kill the monsters. Simple as that.

And he was adamant about that.

Until they found Lenore tied up and tortured by Gordon.

"Gordon, I'm letting her go." Sam said, stepping forward.

Gordon points his long knife at Sam's chest, stopping him in his tracks. "You're not doing a damn thing."

Dean immediately took Gordon's attention away from Sam, "Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray." Gordon's voice was that of a man with no light; no happiness or morals.

"Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel." Dean held his hands up a placating manner.

"Do you?"

"That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one…" Dean glanced at Lenore, who had more blood covering her face than actual skin.

Gordon's bitter laugh stole Dean's attention again, "Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."

Dean's heart stopped. "You did what?"

"It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you."

The thought - just the thought - of Dean doing something like that to Sam, even if he was a monster, was enough to bring bile to the back of Dean's throat.

So it was pretty reasonable for Dean to beat the living shit out of Gordon once Sam escaped with a half-conscious Lenore.

"You're not like your brother." Gordon hissed while they were fighting, "You're a killer, like me."

Dean tightens his jaw at the comment and slams Gordon's head against the wall, effectively knocking him out.

"Oh, sorry." He said sarcastically, as he pulls Gordon's lip body onto a chair. As he tied him up, he said, "You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now."

Dean promised to himself that he would never become like Gordon. That son of a bitch had a crossed a line long ago, when he killed his sister, and Dean would never even approach that same line. He'd make sure of it.

See, the main problem Dean had with Gordon, above all the _other_ problems with Gordon, was the fact that Gordon torchured Lenore for _fun_.

 _When you begins to enjoy inflicting pain - which isn't the same as the grim satisfaction you take from eliminating evil - you've turned into something else. Something bad - maybe just as bad as the things you're trying to hunt. You look into the abyss, and the abyss looks back._

The thought of enjoying making someone else feel pain. How could anyone feel satisfied or even joy with the concept of spilling innocent blood unnecessarily?

"I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up." Dean tells Sam later.

His brother looks at him over the top of the Impala, "What do you mean?"

"Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives." Dean specifically remembered one hunt in Minnesota involving two young werewolves. God, they weren't even bigger than Dean. They had no idea what they were or how to control it. And John…

It could've ended differently. That's all Dean would say about it.

"Okay."

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us…" Dean said. There had to be at least one. More than just those two werewolves. God. What if there were a ton? What if in the beginning, John was still learning, he couldn't've know what was okay and what was evil… Could he? Would he have cared?

"Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could." Sam, for once, defended their dad.

"I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it." Dean swallowed painfully at the admission. He killed a vamp that should be alive right now.

"You didn't kill Lenore." Sam reminded him.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."

Bloodthirsty.

Killer.

Like Gordon.

A monster in a man's skin.

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters." Sam forced Dean to see reason.

Hero.

Brother.

Like Sam.

Dean ducked his head, "Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass."

"Guess I might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then." Sam said, glancing away from the house they just excited to look at Dean. The hidden message of that statement wasn't really all that hidden.

I promise I'll stay. A little longer. You won't be alone.

"Thanks." Dean mumbled.

Thanks for staying.

Thanks for saving those people's lives.

Thanks for not letting me be like Gordon.

"Don't mention it." Sam ducked into the Impala to get ready for their next hunt.

Hopefully this one will actually involve something evil. Something that isn't another person. And the boys' world can make sense again.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	4. And The Needy

The next time the boys meet vampires…

There's only one boy.

The other's rotting in hell.

Three cases. That's all it took before Sam left Bobby, went AWOL, complete radio silence. Three cases and a dead brother.

The cases were to get their minds off the body they buried.

It didn't really work.

But then they headed back to Bobby's town; Sioux Falls.

The experienced hunter caught wind of a girl in trouble; running from the people she called family. This case was harder than most, because Bobby had to lie like _fuck_ in order to dance around Sheriff Jody. These people didn't know about the supernatural. So the sooner they gank these vampires the better.

And they were doing pretty well so far. They killed off one of the vamps that was put on clean up duty. Rufus agreed to watch over Alex while Sam and Bobby worked. And Jody wasn't suspicious at all! Things were running like a well oiled machine!

Until everything went really south, really fast.

There were too many of them. All of Alex's brothers busted into Rufus's cabin and stole her. They knocked out Rufus in the process.  
Sam and Bobby were able to track down the nest to this old house on the edge of town, Sam headed upstairs while Bobby snuck down to the basement. They weren't on their A game. Both still stricken with grief, their minds fuzzy, were blindsided by those vamps in the same way Rufus was.

Before they could say "Balls!", Bobby was lying on the floor and Sam was tied to a chair, his blood being drained out of him.

Neither of them could focus on what Mama, the lead vamp, was saying to Alex. Sam squinted, his vision blurring, as he watched the mother brush Alex's hair behind her ear.

"Things got screwy...but you're back now." Mama whispered, shushing Alex's scared, confused whimpers.

"Why? After everything, I thought that you -" Alex glanced from her mother to her brothers, whom didn't seem nearly as understanding.

Sam blinked over to look at Bobby, who rolled his head, suppressing a groan. The hunter was trying to figure out how he'd be able to get both himself and his foster dad out of the house alive. There were three vamps. And Alex. God, what would he do about Alex?

He couldn't leave her here. Could he?

They are her family. Kinda. Would she even want to leave?

Sam blinked hard as he tried to focus his mind. Every thought was like digging through a thick fog. He couldn't see any logical way he'd be able to get out of this one.

Maybe he'd see Dean sooner than he thought.

"I should've turned you years ago." Mama said. Alex's eyes widened as her brothers stepped closer to her, each grabbing an arm. She struggled, but her human strength was nothing compared to their vampire abilities.

"Wait, Mama, no!" Alex shouted as she watched Mama cut her own arm and hold it up to Alex's lips.

"The things you're feeling. Fear, guilt, pity and suffering. Those are _human_ emotions. Drink up, and they'll all go away." Mama said, pressing her bloody wrist past Alex's lips. One of her brothers held her jaw open as she did so. Alex gasped around the bloody appendage, unable to stop the liquid from dripping down her throat.

"That's my good girl." Mama hummed, "Connor, get her something to wash this down with."

It's a good thing they had a big moose that they were currently draining dry. The vamp stepped up to one of the full canisters of Sam's blood. He picked it up and toasted Sam, thunking the mug unnecessarily against Sam's head.

"To Alex." Connor laughed, turning to hand the drink to his mother.

Mama cooed, holding the blood up to Alex's lips. "This'll make your transformation permanent, Alex. And then we can be together, as a family, forever. We'll eat these hunters and then go back to the way things were."

"D-don't." Sam choked out. "Please, don't!"

Alex's eyes were already yellow, her irises wide; pupils flashing in the dark light. Her fangs would already be growing in. Her senses would be heightened by now. She could hear Sam's panick heartbeat. Groaning, something inside her - something vicious and uncontrollable - made her tip her head back as her mother pour the blood down her throat. Gulping, the need inside her was satisfied, it was done.

She's a full vampire.

Watching her change was the perfect distraction for Bobby to slam needles full of dead man's blood into the two brother. They choked out gasps, crumbling in on themselves as their body rejected the position. Crumpling to their knees, Bobby was able to quickly hack off both their heads.

Alex made a choked-off scream, eyes wide. She turned away from the hunter and her dead brothers. Tears formed in her eyes as she realized that all of this was her fault. All of her brothers were dead and she was a vampire. Because of her. If she had just shut up and stayed with her family. If she didn't run away in the first place. She was such an idiot.

Mama hissed at Bobby, baring her teeth, "That was my family, you dick!"

"My apologies. Would you like to see them again?" Bobby asked, quickly slicing his machete straight through Mama's neck. Her head fell to the floor with a dull thunk.

The room was silent for a full three seconds. Then they could hear Alex's muffled sobs. Sam's head lolled to the side, trying to get a better look at the girl.

Alex sunk to the ground, her knees landed in a puddle of her family's blood. Bobby knelt down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched under his touch.

"Hey, now." Bobby said softly, "Are you okay?"

The girl leaned away from him. She shook her head, but didn't look up. "Do it quick."  
"Do what?" Bobby asked.

"Kill me. Now. Quick." Alex said between choked sobs.

Bobby shook his head, "I ain't doin' that."

"It's your job isn't it? To kill things like me?" Alex asked, harshly. "To haunt monster's dreams and murder their families?"

Bobby sighed, taking off his hat to run a hand over his almost-gone hair. "No." The experienced hunter stood up and walked over to Sam. "That's not what we do."

Alex looked up at the sound of her exterminator leaving. Bobby stood next to Sam, kneeling over to untie him. Sam blinked multiple times, feeling lightheaded. He couldn't really tell what was going on anymore. But he knew his dad saved him.

"We stop evil. And as far as I'm concerned, you ain't evil." Bobby grunted, heaving Sam to his feet. The hunter had to lean heavily against Bobby. "Now, can you help me get this lug into the car?"

"What… what's going to happen to me?" Alex asked, still on the floor.

Bobby was already leading Sam out of the room, "If you keep your nose clean, nothin'."

Alex stood up then, panic rising through her, "Are you fucking me? I don't have a high school degree. I don't have any idea how to do anything except pick up guys for my brothers to eat. You're seriously going to throw me out into this shitty world _as a vampire_ with no idea what to do?"

Bobby looked over his shoulder, "I didn't say that. Now, come on. Sam's heavy as balls."

The older hunter drove Sam and Alex back to his house. Sam laid down on the couch and tried not to pass out. Alex stood in the doorway of Bobby's kitchen, watching the hunter try to call Alex's grandmother. After a few long minutes, the old man hung up.

"I'm sorry. She's passed." Bobby said softly.

Alex shrugged, looking down at her feet, "Not like that's anything new today."

Bobby let out a slow breath through his nose, "You have three options."

Alex looked up, eyes flicking away from the hunter almost instantly.

"You can either go out on your own, live a life your own way. You might get in trouble that way. You might not. Choice is all yours. Or you could live with my pal Rufus, the one who was with you earlier? He doesn't hunt around as much anymore. Tends to stay in one place a lot longer than the rest of us."

"Or?" Neither of those options sounded so appealing to Alex.

"Or you can stay here with me. Live in Sioux Falls. We got a good school system. I could hook you up with a job; teach you how to be a functioning member of society." Bobby offered. "I have a guest room upstairs. You can decorate it however you want."

Alex could still smell her family's blood on the man's hands.

"No." She said instantly. "Lucifer, no. Not you. I'd rather be with Roger."

"Rufus."

"Whatever." Alex rolled her eyes, grumbling, "You should've just killed me."

Bobby rolled his eyes right back. Alex isn't the first teenager he's dealt with. "Well, you can stay here until you figure out what you want."

Bobby walked past her to check on Sam. Alex turned and watched him for moment.

"What about the blood?" Alex asked. "No matter what, I'll need blood."

Her fingers were already itching with the need to sink into flesh and tear skin. She could still taste Sam's blood, an interesting, intoxicating concoction of pure and evil clashing against each other on her tastebuds. She licked her lips at the sound of the men's heartbeats.

"Well, you got choices with that, too." Bobby said, "You could eat animal blood; some vamps have been doing that for a while. Works just as good as human blood. Or there's a hospital down the road five miles. We can steal blood from there."

"Or I could just eat humans." Alex said.

"You could. But then I'd have to kill you." Bobby said. "Your choice."

This is the thing that many people don't understand, but Bobby seems to have mastered. The power of choice. It's actually the most powerful force in the universe. It's far greater than anything demons could come up with, or witches could harness, or even I could create. The power of choice is, by far, the most important power one could master.

Every choice has multiple different outcomes, most of which are irreversible. Each choice, no matter how small, has the most evident effect. And because of it, profound things can happen.

Alex had already made up her mind.

She smiled bitterly and said, "I just love this honesty we have."

"Me too." Bobby sweetly smiled.

The sass wasn't lost on either of them.

That night, Sam packed up and left with Bobby asleep in the room upstairs. He had to get out. He had to find a way to save Dean. He had to escape from this place. Bobby had pictures of Dean everywhere. It was starting to make Sam nasious.

So he climbed into the Impala and started driving.

He never looked back.

Until about three hours later, a voice from the backseat spoke up.

"You're not really observant when you're angry." Alex said, from the back seat. Sam swerved the Impala in surprise.

"Wha- Alex?!" Sam asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"Yo." The vampire casually looked out the window at the passing trees. "Where are we going?"

Sam pulled the Impala over to the side of the road. "What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't going to stay with that old bastard." Alex said. "He killed my family."

"Alex, those people weren't family, they were… vampires." Sam said, for lack of a better word.

The teen bared her new fangs at him, "I guess we had something in common, then."

Sam huffed out a breath, sitting back forward, "Well, you can't stay with me."

"Why not?"

"I'm twenty-four!" Sam said. "I don't know how to take care of a teenager!"

"So don't." Alex said. "Just let me hang around and buy food for me. Wifi would be awesome. That's really it."

Sam looked back at her, "Don't you need to go to school?"

Alex raised her eyebrows, "Do you really think you can be around a ton of idiots for eight hours and not eat someone?"

Sam sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Look. It won't be long. Just until I find a place to call my own." Alex paused, "Besides, you look like you could use the company. Your heart is _really_ sad to listen to."

The hunter glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. "What's that mean? You can tell how I feel based on my _heart_?"

Alex nodded. "You know how your heart skips a beat? Or how it feels heavy? Or how it flutters? I can hear all that. Consider it an educated guess."

Sam shifted in his seat. After a few moments, he pulls the car back into the lane and continues driving east. "That's pretty cool, actually. What else can you do?"

Feeling the tension drain from the small car, Alex leaned her back against her window, stretching out her legs.

"I can smell literally everything. So if you fart, I _will_ eat you."

Sam laughed for the first time in a while.

* * *

Pain. Unexplainable, horrendous pain.

I never intended for this to happen. They say it was written; it was supposed to be. It really wasn't. I do some pretty crappy things, but I didn't want this. Not for Dean; not for anyone.

Dean grit his teeth in the beginning; kept all his screams in.

But that only lasted a few days.

* * *

They were silent for a while after that. Alex sat in the back, staring out the window across from her. Her thoughts were drifting gloomily in between the events from the day before. She was an orphan. A siblingless orphan. A siblingless orphan that was stolen from her human family when she was young. Hunters killed her family. But they also saved her.

God, how was she supposed to react to this?

Stuck between relief and grief, she stared blankly at the world passing by her.

Alex slid down so she was resting on her back and stared at the ceiling of the Impala, thinking to herself. Sam didn't bother her unless he stopped at a gas station, diner, or motel.

"I'm gonna go in and grab a water. Want anything?" Sam asked when he stopped at a Gas and Sip.

"The screams of my enemies would be nice." Alex replied, not moving an inch. At the moment, those enemies would probably be Bobby. And her Mama. Both kinda fucked everything up for her. Maybe she should add herself to that list. She was the one who ran away to begin with.

Sam stared at her for a moment before patting the seat and saying, "I'll see if they have that."

While Sam was inside the gas station, buying healthy little snacks for their never ending road trip, Alex picked up a spare pocket knife that was on the floor. It was red and had the initials D.W. carved into it. Whoever left it here probably didn't care for it. It was jammed under the seat.

Alex twirled it in her hand, flipping it open so the blade was exposed. Staring up at the ceiling, she flicked the blade back and forth above her chest, cutting through the air.

In an act of rebellion - against her family, against Bobby and Sam, against the world, against everything - she reached up and carved a letter into the roof of the Impala. The knife made a satisfying scraping noise as it ripped the material.

She was going to carve more, but she could hear Sam approaching from outside, so she let her hand drop.

Looking up at what she made, a dulled pleased feeling blossomed inside her.

She just marked this vehicle - a _hunter's_ ride - as her own. How many monsters could say they did that?

When she blinked, she could still see the letter behind her eyelids.

Carved in the ceiling, a small, straight "V".

* * *

On the first day.

He was torn to shreds. Hellhounds had their fun with him, threw him around like a rag doll, played tug-of-war with his body until it was a string of muscles.

They buried his bones molten lava. They chased down his soul like it was a ball.

The sound of growling and barks would haunt Dean's dreams for years to come.

* * *

"So, no screaming enemies, but, there was-" Sam turned the package to read the label, "Scott's Screaming Suckers? ...I guess their sour jawbreakers."

Alex raised an eyebrow at that, "You think you're funny."

Sam ducked his head, smiling. "A bit."

Alex sat up, snatching the candy from him, muttering, "Well, you're right."

Sam grinned, staring up the Impala again. He didn't notice the knife I'm Alex's lap or the carving on the ceiling.

An hour later, Alex glances up to the sound of one of her favorite songs started to play through the Impala's speakers. She smiled to herself, humming along.

 _The beat was going strong_

 _Playing my favorite song_

 _And I could tell it wouldn't be long till he was with me, yeah me_

 _And I could tell it wouldn't be long till he was with me, yeah me_

Sam glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his lips quirking up for a second. Subtly, he turned the music up louder.

Alex could help but sing along quietly to herself, "Singing, I love rock and roll. So put another dime in the jukebox, baby! I love rock and roll. So come and take your time and dance with me."

Sam surprised her by yelling the "OW!" part right along with the music. His voice was high-pitched to match Joan Jett's. Alex grinned, unable to hold back her surprised laughter.

The hunter was laughing, too. He usually did that to Dean, which would either earn him a grin or a glare, depending on his brother's mood.

Alex sang louder now, belting the lyrics out with exaggerated dance moves. Sam sang along, pounding his fingers on the steering wheel and grinning like an idiot.

 _He said, 'Can I take you home_

 _Where we can be alone?'_

 _And next we were moving on, he was with me, yeah me_

 _Next we were moving on, he was with me, yeah me_

 _Singing, I love rock and roll_

 _So put another dime in the jukebox, baby_

 _I love rock and roll_

 _So come and take your time and dance with me_

Time passed quickly after that.

Pain from both sides were pushed behind them so they could just enjoy the time now. Yes, both of them still had dead brothers, yes, it was killing them slowly on the inside. But no, for a moment, just a moment, they weren't going to let it get them down.

* * *

The stench was the worst. It bombarded Dean's senses, making the air thick and sickening. He could taste the rotting flesh in the air. It made his stomach churn painfully. He gagged with every inhale.

* * *

Singing turned into talking, which turned into joking, which morphed into storytelling.

"He fell flat on his face, straight into the pig pin." Sam said, unable to hold the laughter out of his voice.

"No, shit!" Alex smiled. She was in the front seat now; having moved once Sam stopped for gas and snacks.

"No, there was shit everywhere." Sam replied.

Alex laughed, shaking her head. She has - _had -_ four brothers. She's used to disgusting stories and jokes. A part of her rather enjoys them.

"Dad was furious." Sam said, his smile fading slightly. "He wouldn't let Dean in the car. Made him walk five miles to the motel."

"My brothers would drop me off in the woods. Give me ten minutes and then run out to try to find me. Tried to hide from them. It was a hard-ass game of hide and seek. Cuz they had my scent. I lost every time." Alex smiled fondly at the memory.

"Dad would do the same for me and Dean." Sam commented.

"Yeah? To teach you to hide from hunters?" Alex shifted to look at Sam.

The human huffed in surprise, "Uh, no. From monsters, actually."

Alex smirked, enjoying the discomfort she caused.

Conversation carried on for a while, it didn't take long for Sam to bring up Dean again.

"Is that where we're going? To see your dad and brother?" Alex asked, drawing her knees up onto the seat next to her.

Sam gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I hope so."

Alex quirked and eyebrow but didn't say anything else.

They drove in silence until Alex fell asleep in the sunlight.

* * *

On the second day.

He was rebuilt.

Not with careful, specific stitches. But slammed together, his bones grinded into place like puzzle pieces that didn't fit quite right. His muscles were wrapped around his joints like string, tight together in knots. With punctured lungs, Dean gasped in a smoky breath.

For a second, he thought he was saved.

The knife that carved through his newly-stitched chest proved him very, very wrong. Grunting in pain, he was slowly ripped apart again. But this time, instead of animalistic snarls and rabid growls, his satanic soundtrack was hysterical laughter and insults in his brother's voice.

* * *

Sam kept driving, always chasing the sun. Leaving Bobby and everything he knew far behind him. Alex made good company, surprisingly. When she was in a good mood, she loved to talk.

"Favorite color?" She asked.

"Yellow." Sam said after a moment.

"Ew, really?"

"What's wrong with yellow?"

"It's such a gross color."

"Well, what's yours?"

"Red."

"What makes red better than yellow?"

"Because I like it."

Sam snorted and said, "Oh, whatever, you brat."

His tone was playful, and Alex found she didn't really mind the name calling. It was far kinder than the tone her brothers would've used. She grinned at him and called out a jesting, "Nerd."

Sam smiled, shifting in his seat slightly.

Alex thought for a moment before saying, "Okay, okay. Uh, biggest fear? Not including anything supernatural or huntery."

"Skip." Sam said, waving one hand in dismissal.

"There's no skipping! What is it? Your grandma's nudes?"

"...Clowns." Sam replied, a bit sheepishly.

Alex laughed, "Clowns? Really? What are you, five?"

Sam made a 'tsk' noise, "See, now that's why I didn't want to tell you."

Alex snickered, shaking her head good-naturedly. "Okay, uh, I'll go with drowning."

"Really?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. I never learned how to swim, so open water is kinda a bitch." Alex looked out the window.

Sam hesitated a moment, but then said, "I could teach you. Or try to. We could find a motel sometime that's got a pool."

Alex looked back at him, eyes thoughtful. "Sure. Might as well."

Sam stopped at a motel that night, after two days on the road. Alex has started to sleep through most of the day and be awake at night. It wasn't a conscious choice. Something inside her made her sleep while others were awake. She tried desperately to ignore it, but like the bloodlust, it was impossible.

Alex tiredly helped Sam carry his junk into the motel room.

"We'll have to get you clothes. A bag. Utilities." Sam was muttering to himself when he noticed that Alex didn't have anything with her. "We could go shopping tomorrow, I guess."

"Sam." Alex mumbled, still in that in between world of sleep and awakeness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm hungry."

Sam shrugged, "Alright. We can order a pizza or something."

"No, I mean I'm _hungry_." Alex said, feeling a little woozy. "I haven't had blood in, like, three days."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Sam asked.

Alex rolled her eyes, "Yeah, Alex, why didn't you remind the monster killer that you're a monster?"

Sam sighed, "That's not… okay. What do you want? Do you want to try to steal from a hospital? Or hunt down some kind of animal to eat?"

"Hospital would be preferable, but a lot harder." Alex said. "Can I just eat someone?"

"No." Sam shot that down quickly. "No one dies because of you, okay?"

"I don't have to kill them! I could just take a little of their blood!" Alex was close to begging.

Sam shook his head. "Maybe if we went to a pet store?"

"I'm not eating a cat. Or dog. Or whatever." Alex felt sick at the idea of drinking blood to begin with. She always hated how her brothers devoured the living. How she helped with it. Now she was fighting against her urges and she already knew she was losing.

"Okay, what if we caught some squirrels or something?" Sam was grasping at thin air here, trying to come up with a solution on the spot. Sure, there were plans he came up with on the drive here, but those were more long-term. He had no idea what to do on such short notice.

Alex shrugged. "We can try. But I don't know how easy it'll be."

Sam was sore all over. His body hadn't replaced his blood much yet, so he was probably not in any form to start running through the forest to catch dinner for his new vampire friend. But he was willing to try it.

Alex could tell (the sinking sound of his heart, the tiredness in his eyes, how much he fought to stay on his feet) that any physical exertion would not be happening tonight.

If all else fails, Sam looks pretty good right now. And in his weakened state, Alex could probably overpower him. She hadn't had a chance to try out her new super strength yet. Her mouth started to water. She could still taste his blood on her tongue, a craving, a calling. His heartbeat was intoxicating, something she needed to feel under her teeth.

Horror snapped through her when she realized what she was thinking. Was this how her brothers saw her? A fresh meal, standing just out of reach?

The last thing Alex wanted Sam - or anyone - to be was a bloodslave. It was a sickening task; painful and nauseating. Sometimes dangerous. Deadly.

The scars on her neck itched.

"Alright." She said, quickly; her voice struggling to stay steady as she pushed away her own thoughts. "Let's go to the pet store. We'll get those mice that they feed to snakes."

"You sure?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you'd probably scare off all the squirrels anyway with your big feet." Alex muttered, "We don't need to, like, adopt those mice do we? They're literally just for feeding snakes, right?"

Sam shrugged, "I have no idea. I've never had a pet before."

"Me neither." Alex said. "I had a turtle, once. But my brother's killed it _the day_ I got it."

Getting the mice was easier than expected, and soon Sam was lying face down on one motel bed, fighting to stay awake.

"Oh my god, they're kinda cute. I don't wanna eat them…" Alex muttered to herself, sitting cross-legged on the other bed. In one cupped hand was a small, white mouse. The other two were still in the small box the pet store gave them for transport.

"If you can wait, we can go to the hospital tomorrow." Sam offered from his bed.

Alex shook her head, looking down at the mice.

Something almost profound hit her at that moment. She knew, in a sense, these mice would be her first kill as an actual vampire. While it's true that she's killed hundreds of men - inadvertently - by leading them into her brother's bloody claws, she's never actually touched a single one of them. These mice, like those men, were innocent. They had no idea about how dark the world is. They had no idea what was about to happen.

Realistically, she knew that her fate was sealed when her mother poured Sam's blood down her throat. But right now, she felt like she was signing a contract. By staining these mice's fur pink, she'd be agreeing to this life.

But she had no choice. The hunger was too great. It made her pupils dilate and her grip on the little mouse tighten.

Sam looked away when Alex took a deep, deciding breath.

Her fangs lowered themselves over her human teeth.

* * *

By the third day, Dean had given up completely on holding back his screams of pain.

His soul had been shredded to bits time and time again. Parts of it were left out when the demons put him back together. There were gaping holes in him - literally - where they left their mark. Holes he wouldn't be able to fill; it would would be impossible to fix him again.

* * *

They must've made it to their destination, Alex decided. Because her and Sam never left that motel. Sam, true to his mutterings, took her shopping the next day.

"Okay, um, what do teenage girls wear?" Sam asked, glancing around the mall.

"Better question, how are you going to pay for this? Do you know how much a good pair of jeans costs?" Alex asked, leading the man towards a promising-looking store.

Sam lowered his voice, glancing at a young couple walking by, "I got money, don't worry about it."

Alex fake gagged, "Gross, I just thought of you as my sugardaddy."

The hunter gave Alex a strange look, "Do I want to know what that means?"

"No." Alex said quickly. "Don't google it, either."

The teen then proceeded to pile pairs upon pairs of jeans into Sam's arms. She inspected each pair thoroughly before either putting it back or placing it on top of Sam's quickly growing pile.

"Wait, this pair looks exactly like the last pair you picked up." Sam said, nodding towards the jeans.

"Yeah, but that one has pockets."

"They all have pockets?"

Alex snorted, "Oh, honey. I wish. These three pairs have _fake_ pockets. They're sewn shut."

Sam blinked at her, then at the jeans, "But… _Why_?"

"I have no idea. But it's a monstrosity. And you should hunt it down and fix it." Alex set another pair of jeans onto Sam's pile. She smiled in satisfaction. "Okay, now. Shirts, socks, jackets, pajamas, bras and underwear."

The blood drained from Sam's face at the last two.

* * *

By the fourth day, he had passed out. And they just kept carving; only stopping to sloppily repair him so they could carve again.

The fifth day, they offered him a deal.

"Come on, Winchester." One of them cooed. Curling his bony fingers around a thick knife. "You know you want to."

"I don't make deals with demons." Dean grunted.

The demon's eyes flicked black. He smirked as he slowly slid the knife he was holding into Dean's heart. "Don't forget, a demon deal is what landed you here."

Dean screaming in pain, his chest thrashing uncontrollably against the invasive metal. His heart kept pounding, grating itself against the knife.

"He'll come around." Yellow eyes flashed in the dark smoke. "Just wait."

* * *

Alex glanced up as Sam came into the motel room late at night. It was their fourth day in this little podunk town somewhere in Indiana. The vampire couldn't help but notice how Sam was acting a little shifty around her suddenly.

"You look guilty." She commented idly, flipping through a thick, leather book she found.

"You look guiltier." Sam said, glancing down at the book in her hands. "Where'd you get that?"

Alex flipped another page lazily, "Your bag."

Sam huffed, muttering about how this felt eerily similar to living with Dean. "Please don't go through my bag."

The vampire hummed, "What is this anyway?"

"My dad's hunting journal." Sam replied after a moment. "It has everything he's learned while hunting."

"Who's this 'X' person?" Alex asked, pointing at the numerous times they were mentioned on the page. Sam shrugged, throwing on a jacket.

"He never told us." The hunter grabbed his keys and headed towards the door, "I'll be, uh, out. for a while."

Alex raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. "It's almost eleven."

"Yeah." Sam grunted, shifting awkwardly.

For a professional liar, he sucks at lying.

"Just don't come back drunk." Alex muttered.

Sam nodded and quickly left. The vampire resumed to flipping through the journal, eyes scanning over words like 'salt' and 'burn'. She turned the page again to be greeted to a crude drawing of a face with sharp teeth.

The word "Vampire" was scribbled across the top of the page.

Alex ran her fingers down the page, brushing over every "X", "Daniel Elkins" and "Fangs" she could find.

When she got to the bottom to find the word "Extinct" she snorted.

Not extinct. But getting there.

Something had changed when she was turned.

Okay, well, a lot of things had changed. But something inside her head changed, drastically. Maybe she just suddenly got Schizophrenia, but she could now hear voices in her mind.

Two voices; one male and one female.

The female voice was distant; staticy. She didn't speak often, but when she did, it was something Alex felt the need to pay attention to.

Her family never mentioned this. The voices.

Maybe they didn't have it? Maybe she was just psychotic?

 _Welcome to the family, child._ The male voice whispered.

* * *

On the tenth day, he would barely talk anymore. His vocal chords had been strung too tight; ripped too many times; abused far too often.

Dean's back had red warts and scars up and down it. His shoulders ached from constantly being strung above his head.

 _CRACK!_

Another whip against his back. Dean grunted, trying to shift away from the demon behind him, but it was impossible to move.

 _CRACK!_

He screamed in pain, but nothing came out. Dead air puffed from his throat in a weak attempt of mimicking a cry.

 _CRACK!_

"This can stop, Winchester." The demon said. "All you have to do is pick up the knife."

Dean shook his head weakly.

No, God, no. He'd never.

 _CRACK!_

"Oh, I can see your spine…" The demon laughed, snapping the whip against the exposed bone over and over.

 _CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

* * *

Sam came back early in the morning, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled.

"You smell weird." Alex said, causing the man to jump.

He wasn't expecting her to be awake. Stupidly. The sun wasn't yet done rising. She still had a few hours to be awake.

"Hey. Uh, how do you feel?" He asked, deflecting.

"Fine. I read all of that journal. No offense, but your dad's a dick." Alex said.

Sam made a face at her. Part of him agreed, but family's family. And she doesn't yet have the right to insult them.

"Well, you'll never have to meet him. So it doesn't matter."

* * *

On the thirteenth day, Dean rolled his head back and spit in the demon's face.

The demon growled, tossing Dean into the burning dirt. "You piece of shit."

Dean grunted as the demon's dug the heel of its boot into his damaged back. Dean hissed, feeling the blood run down his bare back. They didn't give him any clothes; when they smashed him back together on the second day, the demons didn't bother to give him any sense of security.

Nakedness made it easier to carve into the hunter's skin.

It also made it easier for the demon's next move.

Dean gasped when he felt a heavy weight pressing against his lower back. The human weakly pushed himself up against the ground. The demon slammed a knife into Dean's shoulder blades. The human screamed out in pain, his arms shaking, eventually dropping his chest back into the dirt.

The demon tsk'd annoyedly. "Stay down or grab the knife. Those are your only options."

Dean shook his head, gasping out, "N-no."

Footsteps crunched against the broken bones of the long forgotten. "Azazel. Help me with this one."

The human turned his head to see the boots of another demon. The higher ranked monster leaned down to speak to Dean.

"Now, Deanie. Are you being troublesome?" The demon asked, his eyes flashing a murky yellow. "We can't have that."

Azazel pulled a knife out from his jacket. "Hold still for me, now."

Dean screamed in pain as the knife clawed against his shoulder. It dug through skin and muscle like it was air. Dean thrashed on the floor, unable to hold himself still as his arm was sawed off.

"Try to move again and we'll take the other one, too." Azazel said, dropping the limp, bloody arm on the ground next to Dean's face.

Dean hissed, writhing against the body above him.

"I _love_ when they squirm." The demon above him smirked, still holding Dean down my the knife in his back.

Tears rolled down Dean's face in an endless march. Breathing was impossible, good thing you don't need to breathe when you're dead.

Fingernails dug into the swollen meat of Dean's ass.

"No!" Dean grunted, trying and failing to get away from all of this. "Please!"

"Vocal now, aren't you?" Azazel smirked. "When they're done, I'm going to have my fun with you. And then Eligos. Then Morax. Then Chax, and Vepar, and every twisted soul in this godforsaken place. Good thing this is the home of rapists. Everyone can get their fix with you."

Dean cried out louder, desperately straining his body to say, "No, no, stop! Please!"

He could feel the demon squirming in anticipation on top of him.

"Then pick up the knife, Dean. Pick up the knife and all this goes away." Azazel hummed, digging out the dirt from under his nails.

But Dean couldn't do that. He couldn't. He just could not do the things that demons did to him to another human being. He refused. If he stooped so low as to torture, then he wouldn't be human anymore.

"No!" Dean refused.

"Dammit, Dean. I'm trying to help you. It'll all be better if you just embrace the fact that you're a bloodthirsty psycho murderer."

Dean shook his head, biting his lip to keep back his sobs.

Azazel spits on Dean's back, muttering, "Fuck him until he bleeds."

The demon didn't hesitate to slam himself into Dean's unprepared hole.

The hunter's screams echoed throughout the flames. They could be heard for days.

* * *

After a few nights of Sam leaving late and coming back early, Alex finally figured out the smell that Sam always came back reeking of. It was always in the back of her mind. Something she recognized, but couldn't name.

Something from long ago.

"Hey," Sam greeted, coming into the room.

Alex inhaled deeply through her nose. It finally clicked.

"Demon!" She said, almost excitedly.

She could literally hear Sam's heart stop in fear.

"W-what?" Sam asked, quietly.

Alex climbed off the bed, standing up. "That's what you smell of when you come back. Blood and sex and _demon_."

Sam took a step away from her, his face screaming _Guiltyguiltyguiltyguilty!_

"I- uh, it's not," He stammered, trying to figure out a way to explain himself or lie or _something_.

The vampire snorted, "Dude, chill. I don't care. I was just trying to figure out why you always smelled great. It's the demon."

"What?" Sam asked, his back against the door, standing as far away from Alex as possible.

"Yeah. I had a demon boyfriend for about a day before my family ate him. After that they wanted me to specifically target demons for their meals, which was all kinds of dangerous and hard. But it's because demon blood is addictive. That's what I kept smelling." Alex smiled to herself, having figured out her little mystery.

"Alex, I'm sorry, it's just-" Sam started, but the vampire cut him off.

"You don't have to explain yourself. You're either going to kill it or keep fucking it. Either way, it's not my problem." Alex said, sitting back down on the bed, pulling Sam's laptop onto her lap. "The only thing I don't get is the blood part."

Sam froze up again, eyes averting away from Alex. He didn't say anything as the teen kept talking.

"At first I just thought you were into some _really_ kinky stuff. But it's, I don't know, weird. The bloody smell is surrounding you. It's kind of annoying actually, please go shower." Alex glanced up at him, eyes calculating. "You almost smell like a vampire."

His heart skipped a beat painfully. His entire body language told Alex she hit the bullseye. But instead of saying anything more about the subject, she just smirked and said, "How do you feel about Chinese? I'm craving egg rolls."

The hunter nodded and quickly took his escape to the bathroom.

Sam had no idea how to react. Anyone else he knew would be chewing him out right now. But this girl is completely fine with it? Was it because she was basically a stranger, and didn't care what happened to Sam? Or was it because she was a vampire and didn't think sucking blood was all that strange? Was it because she was a teenager, and therefore didn't care as much about consequences? Or because she didn't know the full situation? Did she just trust Sam's judgement?

The hunter had the vague want to slam his head against the shower wall repeatedly, this was so confusing. It would be so much easier if she just yelled at him for his stupid, immoral acts.

* * *

By day twenty, the demons got smart. Dean's been tortured before. He's been beaten and starved. He'd been used and abused. He knows how to hold off. They weren't going to win by breaking him physically.

So they went mental.

They strung him up, chained spread eagle in the darkest part of hell. With a hook in his shoulder holding him up in the stormy air, they left him alone.

At first, Dean welcomed the change. He was still in pain, there was a hook in his shoulder, of course he was in pain.

But he no longer had the stench of demon hanging around him. Their dirty hands that scratched at his skin greedily were nowhere to be found. Their disgusting breaths weren't around to call him nasty names. They gave him a break.

Thank God.

* * *

"Her name's Ruby, yeah?" Alex asked, the next day. Sam choked on the drink he was sipping on.

Alex casually tossed him a napkin, waiting for his response.

"Uh, yeah." Sam muttered, wiping his face with the napkin. "How do you know?"

"She was texting you yesterday. I just looked at the screen for a second, to make sure it wasn't Bobby." Alex stuck a straw into an IV bag Sam managed to steal. Type B-. "It was Bobby, but Ruby's messages were there, too. Don't worry, I didn't read them."

Sam shook his head. "Alright, privacy is a thing, you know. You can't just look through my phone and take things from my bag."

Alex nodded, "Yeah, I know. But you leave me alone for ten hours at a time. What do you expect me to do?"

"I let you use my laptop." Sam said.

"Yeah, but who just stays on the internet all night?" Alex rolled her eyes. "I'm getting tired of staring at the water spots on the ceiling."

Sam blinked, "You can go outside, you know. Without me."

The vampire frowned, staring at Sam like he grew a second head. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Sam said. "You're sixteen, almost an adult. You should know what you can and can't do. Just be careful and text me if you get in trouble. I'll be there right away."

Alex sat there, still as a stone. She didn't know how to respond. Mama would've never allowed this, not in a million years. Alex was basically always being trailed by one of her brothers, unless she was playing bait for dinner.

"Oh." She said, glancing down at the bag of blood in her hands. Sam was so accommodating. How could all that good be smooshed into one person? Maybe that's why he was so big; to make room for the kindness. "Thanks."

"Sure, thing."

* * *

Two weeks of silence and Dean couldn't stand it. If the screaming was bad, then the silence was even worse. The silence let Dean think. And thinking was a dangerous pastime in hell.

His thoughts morphed around him like the toxic gas in the air.

They started out simple enough.

 _Shit. Fuck._

Then they grew in complexity.

 _Sam's upstairs. Safe. Everything's on fire._

Which transformed into memories.

 _Don't go back inside, Sammy. Mom's on the ceiling. The smell of ash fills the air. Sam in my arms. Dad by my side. The family business._

Which progressed into newer, somehow more painful memories.

 _I'm completely alone._

Flashbacks to those empty four years hang in Dean's heart. Loneliness curls around Dean's broken, naked body, leaving him feeling numb.

 _Miss me?_ It hissed in Dean's ear.

The more Loneliness hung around, the more and more Dean broke down.

God, he'd do anything, _anything_ to hear a voice. Even if it was a demon's. He just needed to hear something that wasn't his own mind.

* * *

The next time Sam came home, Alex was sitting in the corner of the room. Soft, choked off sobs could be heard over the constant hum of the AC.

"Alex?" Sam asked, dropping his bag and walking up to her. He crouched down to her level, "Hey, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Alex looked up, surprised to see him. "S-Sam?"

"Yeah, it's me. You're okay." Sam spoke softly, his volume matching Alex' quiet tone. Sam hesitantly reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. He asked again, "What's wrong? Are you hungry? There's more blood in the fridge."

Alex shook her head, whimpering, "I think… it all just caught up to me."

Sam's expression softened in understanding. His heart ached for the poor girl. She was dealing with so much at such a young age and Sam made the mistake of assuming her brave face was genuine.

"Hey, shh." Sam whispered, "It'll be alright. I won't leave you; we'll get through this together. I know it hurts, but we'll be okay."

Alex nodded, trying to bite back her whimpers, "I miss them. God, why do I miss them? They were such disgusting, horrible people."

"Sometimes you love people who don't deserve it." Sam mumbled quietly. "It's part of what makes love so dangerous."

The vampire hesitated, but when one powerful sob pushed past her lips, Sam made the decision for her. The hunter pulled the girl into his arms and helped to hold her together.

Sam hummed in her ears, the soft melody of the Beatles.

 _Hey, Jude..._

* * *

Occasionally, Dean got his wish. The demon's would return and beat the shit out of him. Use him inhumane ways and then hang him back up on the hook to let him stew in silence. He grew to wish for those beatings, because at least during then, Dean could feel - for a split second - like he possibly wasn't in hell. That he was upstairs, it was a hot, summer night and Dean did something wrong, so the monster of the week caught him. And yeah, he was dying right now, but soon his father would run in, shoot the place up, and save him.

John never runs in.

And Dean can no longer pretend like things could ever be okay again.

* * *

"You can't get a scratch on her." Sam warned. "If you do, my brother will kill you."

"From what I've read in John's book, he'll kill me either way." Alex muttered.

Sam tossed the keys to the teen as he walked to the passenger seat. "How much do you know?"

Alex clicked her tongue, "If you can chose between a person and a tree, hit the tree because the tree can't sue."

Sam laughed. "Good enough."

They were in an empty parking lot. It was a bright, sunny day. Fluffy white clouds lazily floated in the air, breaking up the endless blue. The air was warm with just a slight breeze and the smell of pollen drifted past them.

The Impala was spotless and ready to teach a new driver the ways of the road.

"Okay," Sam said, buckling in. "The key goes in there, yeah. Turn it until you hear the engine ignite. There you go."

Alex gripped the wheel tightly. Why was this so terrifying? She mentioned offhandedly that she didn't' know how to drive and Sam immediately suggested they go practice. The radio was low and the windows were cracked.

"Now, you know what all those letters mean?" Sam asked, gesturing to the gears on the dash.

"Probably Runs Nastily Downhill." Alex replied.

Sam shook his head, grinning, "Park, Reverse, Neutral, Drive."

Alex looked over at him, a sly smile breaking through her serious expression. "That's what I said."

"Sure." Sam hummed, "So, I always have my foot on the break before I shift gears." The engine revved as Alex put her foot down. Sam commented easily, "Wrong petal."

"Shit." Alex muttered, switching feet.

"Only use one foot." Sam said, "Probably your right one."

Alex did, and then shifted gears to "Downhill".

"Good, start out slow, pull out of this parking spot and then we'll go around the lot and come back here." Sam said, gesturing around them. "Don't hit the light poles."

"You're bossy." Alex muttered, pushing on the gas. The car zipped forward. Alex almost bit her tongue in shock.

Sam laid a hand on the dashboard. "Woah, easy now, Baby, play nice."

Alex glanced at him from the corner of her eye as she steadied the car. "You two wanna get a room?"

The hunter grinned, enjoying the moment for a split second. But then darkness sank into his heart, dragging it down as he remembered that his brother was in hell. His smile fell off his face. Looking back at the dashboard of the car, he couldn't help but flashback to when he was learning how to drive, and Dean sat in the same spot he was sitting now.

Alex didn't comment on the now deep, painful sounds of Sam's heart. She slowly turned the corner to circle around the lot. The rest of their lesson was a fairly quiet one; Sam only talking to give her instructions.

* * *

Dean hates many, many things about himself.

Sidenote: This is the one and only thing I hate about humans. Demons? Hundreds of things I'd change. Monsters? Thousands. Angels? A thousand more. But humans. There's only one thing I wish I did differently.

I wish I made it so they always loved themselves. Because if you aren't there for yourself… who will be?

Anyway, Dean hates many, many things about himself. But the one thing he will never admit to anyone, not even if his life depended on it, was that when he gave up and said Yes…

It wasn't when he was being torn apart by hellhounds.

It wasn't when he was being carved into by an angry demon.

It wasn't even when he was being patented in the most intimate of ways.

He gave up during the days he hung in the fog by himself.

The rock in his chest was eventually too much. With silent tears and a broken soul, Dean cried out until his voice was gone.

"YES!" He shouted, hanging limply in the air. "I'LL DO IT, ALRIGHT?! GIVE ME THE KNIFE! I'Ll… I'll do it…"

Yellow eyes blinked to life through the thickness of the fog. "I'm glad you could come to your senses, Dean."

* * *

"Sam?" Alex asked. Something was different when he came into the motel room early that morning. He didn't smell of blood or sex or even demon. He just reeked of something that made Alex's stomach churn.

Alcohol.

The guy was completely smashed, he stumbled into the room, giggling like an idiot. Alex crawled backwards to the far side of her bed. Hoping that maybe Sam won't see her.

He hiccuped, lifting a foot to take off his shoe. He stumbled, laughing as he almost ran into the wall.

At least he was a happy drunk.

For now.

Alex has had …. bad experiences with drunks. Times when her brothers didn't show up on time. Or at all. Times when she couldn't run away; when they overpowered her.

She kept her eyes trained on Sam. It's not that she didn't trust him. She had finally trusted him enough to take a shower during the hours where he's in the motel room with her. Before that, she waited until he left to go suck Ruby's blood.

But this wasn't Sam anymore. Not to her at least. This was a huge, bumbling idiot that might decide he might want to have a little _fun_ with the only other person in the room.

Sam suddenly looked up, eyes wide. "Dracula!"

Alex flinched.

Fuck.

Sam twisted around, looking for his vampire friend. He smiled when he saw her. Her knees were pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her. She looked like a little bloodthirsty ball! "You're so little."

Sam uncoordinatedly crawled across his bed. Alex shook her head, raising a hand in a weak defense.

"Stop. Don't come near me." Her voice shook with fear and emotion.

Sam slid off his bed, stumbling - almost crashing into Alex's bed. He climbed onto her bed, smiling. His smile fell when he looked at her, though.

"Hey." He frowned. "Why'r'ya cryin'?"

He reached forward, clumsily rubbing his thumb against her cheek, wiping off a tear. Alex suck in a breath, trying to push herself further against the wall. Shit. Who even puts a bed right against the wall anyway?

"Is y'ur mom havin' a baby?" Sam asked, eyes wide.

Alex blinked at him, confused and afraid and very willing to punch the adult.

"My mom had a baby once." Sam smiled fondly. He frowned again, thinking, "But… then she died. The baby burned her." He started laugh hysterically. "It's all the baby's fault! The baby is completely alone and it's all his fault!"

Tears started to fall from Sam's eyes, but he was still laughing. He shakily ran a hand through his hair, his smile now a painful grimace. "It's all his fault. ...All my fault. I-I'm the baby... I killed everyone."

Alex stared at him, her fear ebbing away. "...Sam?"

"They're all dead. All'a'em." Sam sat back on his knees, both his hands in his hair now. His laughs are battling against his choked sobs. "Mom an' Dad. Jess. Dean. Pro'lly you, too. Y'u're dead. You're a v'mpire."

"Hey, I'm not your fault." Alex said, harshly. "I'm the only reason why I'm like this."

Sam wasn't listening to her, though. He stared down at the blanket before him, mumbling, "Stupid baby, stupid fucking baby. Shudda ne'er been born."

Alex reached out, touching Sam's arm. She knew about their history. It was all in John's journal.

' _November 16, 1983_

 _Nothing makes sense anymore … My wife is gone, my sons are without their mother…'_

She read about it in the same detached way you'd read a text book. She never actually thought… Never really realized, this was someone's life.

"Oh, Sam…" She whispered, murmuring the same words Sam said to her a few nights ago. "It'll be alright…. I won't leave you... We'll get through this together. I.. I know it hurts, but we'll be okay..."

Sam nodded, then shook his head. He laughed again, but it broke off into a hiccup. He smiled the most pain-filled smile Alex had ever seen.

"My brother's in hell." He whispered. "My dad, too, probably."

Alex glanced from one foggy eye to the other, "But you said we were going to visit your brother and father."

Sam swallowed, twice and then winced, "I know."

The girl's eyes grew dark, her face stony. "Sam." She said seriously. "If your thinking about killing yourself-"

"No, no." Sam said, quickly. But then he stared off into space, his drunken mind contemplating it. He shook his head, almost falling sideways in the process, "N-no. I'm, um, I'm gon' break 'em out."

Alex blinked at him. "Right."

"Save th' day." Sam said. "An' may'ye he'll forgive th' baby…"

Alex crawled off the bed and stood up, she grabbed Sam's big arms and said, "Let's get you to bed."

"I's my fault." Sam laughed, as Alex gently pushed him down onto his bed. "I did this to him."

Alex shook her head, pursing her lips, taking off Sam's shoes for him. "Go to sleep, Sam."

Sam layed out on the bed, his eyes falling slowly, "I din't mean to. I was jus' a kid."

"I know, Sam." Alex said, pulling up the covers for him.

"D'ya think he knows?" Sam asked, staring up at the ceiling with heavy eyes. "That I'm sorry?"

"He knows, Sam." Alex grabbed a small, plastic cup and filled it up with motel tap water. "He knows." She set it on the table between the beds. The vampire then turned to Sam's bag and started rifling through it to try to find some pain killers or something.

She grinned in victory when she found them. Placing only two on the table next to the water, she turned the lights off.

Sam blinked in the darkness. His skin felt a little itchy where his tears ran down them. But his arms felt too heavy to actually reach up and itch them. He sniffed. His blinks got slower; longer.

"Go to sleep, Sammy." A voice said. It was soft, quiet. It didn't sound like Dean. But the phrase was one that Sam heard from Dean often. So maybe Dean was just being a girl today? That could probably happen. One time someone thought Sam was a girl. Dean laughed.

Sam giggled at the memory and mumbled a quiet, "Night, jerk."

"Goodnight, nerd."

* * *

Dean's torn knuckles curl around a knife. The soul that stands below him was an old, tortured one. That made things a bit easier, Dean reasoned. They would've been used to anything Dean could throw at them.

With a shaky hand and a thick knot in his throat, Dean raised the knife high into the air.

* * *

"Oh, so _you're_ Ruby!" Alex cheered delightfully.

The woman glanced from her to Sam and back again. Her expression one of clear shock. "Uh, yeah. Sam, who's this?"

"I'm Alex." The vamp said. They were at a diner, having lunch. Ruby, apparently, didn't know Alex would be there. "As long as you don't hurt Sam, you don't have to worry about me."

Ruby's eyes flashed black, "Charming."

Alex bared her fangs, "I tend to be."

"Girls, come on." Sam said, holding up his hands. "We're around civilians."

Neither of the women looked very concerned.

Ruby sat down next to Sam, glaring at the teen across from them. Turning to Sam, she asked in a low voice, "When's the last time you had blood?"

Sam shifted awkwardly, avoiding Alex's gaze. "Uh, not since last time we saw each other."

Ruby frowned, "Sam, that was days ago. Don't you want to get stronger?"

"Of course, I just-"

"Stronger for what?" Alex asked.

Ruby's glare turned back to Alex. She forced a pleasant smile and said, "Sam's going to save the world."

Alex raised her eyebrows, "By yourself?"

"No, I'm _helping_ him." Ruby replied quickly.

"Sure." Alex deadpanned, still looking at Sam.

She could hear the guilt in his heart. And the annoyance in Ruby's. She didn't trust Ruby, but she trusted Sam. So if Sam believed whatever he was doing was right; then she believed it too. Mostly.

Sam just looked out the window and said, "Please don't tell Bobby."

Alex snorted, "Like I'd voluntarily talk to _him._ "

The demon leaned across the table, "Why? What'd Bobby do?"

"Killed my entire family. Right in front of me." Alex said, leaning closer, talking in a low voice. "Their heads landed at my feet."

"What a _dick_!" Ruby said, eyes wide. "One time a hunter stabbed my best friend while I was tied up, watching."

"Oh my God." Alex hissed. "The _nerve_ of them!"

"Right?"

"One time, when I was little-"

Sam cleared his throat, interrupting the girl's little bonding moment. "Can, can we not talk about hunters like their murderers?"

The hunter was met by a legendary double bitch face.

* * *

The demons cheered with every cut Dean made. The human focused on their positivity. He zoned out and just kept carving; trying his damnedest to ignore the cries of agony from his victim.

They patted his back as they drug the destroyed soul away. A new one was placed down in front of him.

Someone squeezed Dean's shoulder in encouragement. Dean took a deep breath and started slicing through the new victim's flesh.

Person after person, older, younger, man, woman, battered, barely scratched, they set them all in front of Dean.

And Dean tortured every single one.

Scraping a chunk of flesh off his knife, Dean turned to his newest victim.

He stopped in his tracks when she looked up at Dean.

Kneeling before Dean, with her hands tied behind her back, was a little girl. She had light blue eyes and curly blonde hair. Her skin was not yet scorched from this world's flames; not yet sewn back together with uncaring hands.

She was young. Couldn't be more than eight.

Dean shook his head. This was the first child he's seen in all of hell. Stumbling backwards, he looked at Azazel.

"Why's she down here?" That was Dean's first question. He couldn't fathom it. A little girl in hell? What could she've done to deserve this?

"Because it's God's will." Azazel sneered, rolling his eyes. "It doesn't matter what she did. She's here, she has to pay."

"What's your name?" Dean asked the child.

She flinched, blinking through tear-filled eyes, "G-Grace."

"Grace?" Dean asked. She nodded and the human turned away, rubbing his temples. "Son of a bitch."

"What's the matter, Winchester?" A demon asked, grinning coldly.

"What's the matter? She's a child! She doesn't belong her and she definitely doesn't deserve to be tortured!" Dean yelled.

"That's not for you to decide." Another demon said smugly. "Now be a good boy or we'll hang you again and leave you there for a century."

"No, I don't care. I'm not going to stick a knife in this girl." Dean growled.

Azazel shrugged, "Dean, if you don't, someone more brutal will. Introduce her to her eternity of damnation nice and slow."

Dean shook his head, cussed loudly, then kicked the smoldering dirt below him.

Azazel was right. If not Dean, then someone else. Someone who has no problems ripping out a little girl's heart and soul.

Dean swallowed, stepping closer to the young girl.

Grace sniffed pathetically and closed her eyes.

Dean took a deep breath and did the same.

* * *

"Hey, old man." A sing-song voice snapped Bobby out of his daze.

The hunter had a gun pointed towards the intruder in three seconds flat.

Bobby lowered the gun in confusion when he saw who it was. "Alex?"

"Yeah. Tell me, what's the date?" Alex asked, setting down grocery bags onto Bobby's table. The hunter blinked at her, watching her every move.

"Uh, September 8th, 2008." Bobby frowned, "Girl, where've you been?"

Alex didn't answer, just nodding and unpacking her bags. "So, I got you some stuff to eat. I know you've been drowning yourself in booze. It's all already made up, so you just gotta put it in the oven. The directions are written on the tin foil."

She opened the fridge and scowled at him when she saw all the bottles of liquor. Shoving them aside, she started to place her pre-made dinners into the fridge for him.

"What? I've been looking everywhere for you!" Bobby said.

"Don't." Alex shrugged, "I'm with Sam."

Bobby sat up, looking around, "Sam's here?"

"No. He's in the midwest." Alex replied, picking up some empty beer bottles and placing them in the empty plastic bags. "And don't worry, I didn't make the food. Marius did. So, it's actually edible."

" _Marius?_ " Bobby stared at her, confusion written all over his face.

"Yeah, so, see you in about two weeks." Alex pressed a kiss to the top of Bobby's head. She turned and walked out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Don't worry, Sam's fine. And actually eat some of that, you need it. Bye!"

Bobby stared at the closing door. He had half a mind to go after her and make her explain herself, but by the time he got to the door, she had completely vanished.

The hunter pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number.

Someone answered on the third ring, "Sam's phone, who's this?"

"Alex?" Bobby said in confusion.

"Oh. _Bobby_." The voice on the other end said. "Do you need something? Maybe a new vamp to murder?"

Bobby shook his head, looking out at where Alex just disappeared. "I… were you just here?"

"No. I'm long gone, old man. God, you're losing it, aren't you?" Alex muttered.

If he hadn't felt those lips press against his head, if there wasn't suddenly a week's worth of food in his fridge, he'd agree with her.

"Alex, are you with Sam?" Bobby asked.

"I'm gonna hang up now." Alex replied.

"No, wait!"

Dial tone.

Bobby stared at the phone, then at the food in his kitchen. What the fuck just happened?

"Balls!"

* * *

Something shifted when it was over. Dean was rushed out of the room and hastily hung on his perch again. The demons scampered off excitedly whispering about a Righteous Man and The First Seal.

Dean didn't know the specifics and he really didn't care. He was alone, hanging in the green smoky thunderstorm, listening to the screams of those he'd tortured. He shuddered painfully when he noticed a younger, high-pitched scream was added to the cacophony.

* * *

Alex found herself reading John's book again. The words meant a lot more to her now.

She couldn't help but scowl at the way John treated Sam when he was little. She smiled at how Dean taught Sam how to walk. And talk. And read. And drive. And shoot. And hunt.

John made Dean seem like a hunter. A bloodthirsty killer that followed orders and never thought twice about who's life he was ruining.

But Sam made Dean sound like Mother Teresa. The hand Sam reached out for, the light in the dark, the sense of calm in a world of chaos.

The vamp had to read between the lines of the book to try to figure out who this person actually was.

When John said, "Dean disobeyed."

Sam said, "Dean saved us."

It was two complete opposite sides of two very different coins. Alex decided she'd just smoosh them together and assume Dean was a kind murderer. Like Sam.

But Sam hasn't actually hunted anything in front of Alex. In fact, he's helped keeping two supernatural creatures stay alive.

So Sam was just kind.

And Dean was a kind murderer.

John was a dickish murderer.

And Bobby was just a murderer.

* * *

The demons never returned for Dean.

Not even to torture him.

* * *

"Have you thought about enrolling into this school?" Sam asked when they drove past the local high school.

Alex shrugged, "I dunno. How long are we going to stay here?"

Sam cocked his head, thinking, "As long as it takes, I guess."

"And after your little mission?" Alex asked. "What are you gonna do?"

"Maybe it's not too late to go back to college."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" Sam shrugged, "Everyone deserves their shot at normal."

He shot Alex a significant look.

Alex nodded, "Yeah... We could be normal together? Do you think?"

Sam was genuinely surprised by the question. "You want to stay with me?"

"I don't know anyone else who'd steal blood for me."

"Fair point." Sam smiled. "I have no idea how I'll pay for _both_ our college tuitions, though."

Alex grinned, "Is credit card scams not enough?"

Sam giggled, "Probably not. Do you know how expensive college is?"

"We can just sell all your hair. They'll be able to make a hundred wigs out of all of it."

Sam made a horrified face, "Never!"

"Nerd." Alex giggled.

"Brat."

* * *

The worst part…

Was that there was no end.

There was no sun and moon; night and day. There were no holidays or vacations. There was no sleeping, no rest. Everything that happened to Dean just felt like one long, never-ending day.

* * *

"Oh, woah." Alex gasped as she opened the Impala's trunk for the first time.

Sam looked up from his phone, presumably texting Ruby and ignoring Bobby.

"Don't open that." Sam said, but he was too late, Alex had already unlocked and opened the weapon's safe.

The vamp's fingers brushed over one of the blades. Whistling, she glanced up at him. "And you haven't used these in months?"

Sam licked his lips. "I just, uh, those are Dean's, really."

Alex nodded. Her eyes widened when she saw a machete. She swallowed and closed the lid. She turned to Sam and watched him for a moment, thinking.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Teach me how to fight." Alex said.

Sam blinked at her. "No?"

"I want to be prepared. If I ever run into someone with one of these-" She knocks her knuckles against the weapons case, "I want to be able to not die."

Sam looked her up and down, weighing the pros and cons. "...Alright."

Alex nodded. She's glad Sam was there when Bobby killed her family. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here right now.

Sam's taught her so much. A bit about hunting, how to drive, some calculus, and, eventually, how to swim. If it was any other hunter, they would've either thrown her out on the streets, or killed her on the spot.

Somehow, in this crappy world, she found something pure and good. She was going to stay with it for as long as she could.

* * *

The screaming on the one hundred and twenty-first day, the screaming was different.

Yes. There was the never ending shouting of those being tortured and burned. Yes. There was the whispers of Dean's own mind, confusing the hunter with what was real and what wasn't.

But there was also a blinding flash of light and the sound of metal clashing against metal.

There was a high-pitched screeching that made Dean's head hurt.

There was panicked shouts from the demons that picked him apart piece by piece.

Dean didn't know what to expect. A part of him believed the Devil himself had strolled by to take a whack at torturing the wicked.

Before he could muse about it much longer, there was a blinding flash of light.

And then darkness.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	5. Lazarus Rising

As soon as Dean took that first gasping breath, wary relief washed over him. He could breathe. And it only hurt a little. The hunter's body tingled, although not unpleasantly. It was obvious whoever tied him back together this time knew what they were doing.

The hunter didn't know it, but far, far above him, in another realm, there was a chorus of cheers. Celebration that echoed throughout the sky.

 _DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED!_

Dean coughs as dirt and dust fall on his face. He looks up at the old, dark wood, fear striking through him at the realization.

He's in a coffin.

John had buried him alive once. The man had told Dean it was to prepare him; sometimes a psychotic Satan worshiper would bury their human sacrifices. Dean remembers how he started panicking, shouting as loud as he could, banging on the coffin John had stuffed him in. He remembered when John finally pulled him out how his father glared at him disappointedly.

Dean would try to catch his breath between his sobs. John would drop a bottle of water in front of his son and turn away.

"You have twenty minutes. Then we try again."

John made Dean practice all day. The young Winchester was only fourteen. He tried to reason with his father, "I'll never need to know this!", "If we try again, I'll die.", "Please, can we just spar again? Or practice shooting?"

His father never listened to him; shooting him down easily as he pushed Dean roughly back into the coffin. "You need it right now. Now, don't you?", "If you dig yourself out, you won't die.", "You don't need practice with what you're already an expert on."

Dean never, ever thought he'd ever be _thankful_ for what his father did to him that day, but today he kinda is. The hunter pulled his shirt over his mouth, using it as a buffer against the dust. He pounded against the weak wood, and after the fourth hit, it came crumbling down. Dean pushed the dirt as best as he could to his feet, allowing his arms and chest more room to move. Squirming to move some dirt underneath him, the hunter started his slow ascent six feet up.

He had to stop every now and then, just to let his sore arms rest, or to flick dirt out of his eyes. Desperately dragging in unclean air, he pushed himself further, knowing that soon, he'll be free.

Unless.

Unless this was a new tactic in hell. A new mind game. He'd climb out and think he's free, that he somehow busted out. But no. No, then a demon would find him, slam its fist into his chest and rip out his heart. Dean would be in pain, but he would still be alive, conscious, and the demon would laugh at his uncontrollable scream.

He'd open his eyes and be tied down, skin boiling, and soul being shredded to pieces.

But then his hand tore through small grass roots. He could feel the sun on his skin, the wind against his fingers. His hand started to push dirt and clay out of his way. He pushed against the dirt below his feet, and he was able to get another arm out.

The hunter hauled himself up by his arms now, his fists gripping the dried grass like they were a lifeline. Which for him, they were.

He gasped in a breath for the second time today, loving the feel of the warm, clean air filling his lungs. The hunter rests his head against the ground, panting. If a demon were to come and tear him apart, it'd do it while Dean was catching his breath.

So Dean sat, soaking in the warmth from the sun. It was far less painful than the flames of hell; a soothing, welcoming warmth.

Eventually, the hunter pulled himself out of his grave completely, looking around the area. He sucked in a breath when he saw his surroundings.

"Jesus." He hissed.

Trees were flattened, cut off from their stumps violently. The grass wasn't dried, it'd been incinerated, pressed down in some kind of blast.

Ok.

Maybe he really was out.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, swaying as the world spun around him. He held his head, blinking rapidly until the black blinding dots faded from his vision. Slowly, he stumbled toward a dirt road.

His legs reluctantly lead him down the road, he could see a building just a bit ahead. It might be a gas station?

The more Dean walked, stretching his muscles, the easier it got. His joints popped occasionally, though not unpleasantly. The hunter kept his eyes open, in case a demon or something will pop out of nowhere and attack him.

The gas station was empty; a fine layer of dust covering the outside. Dean pounded on the door, straining his voice to get out a simple, "Hello?"

Getting no response, Dean rolls his sleeve over his hand and smashes the glass in the door. He climbs inside and heads straight for the water bottles.

He hadn't had water since before hell. It's not a normal part of his diet. It's probably been a year since he last drank something.

Speaking of which, what day was it?

Dean found a newspaper, squinting at the date.

Thursday, September 18, 2006.

"September…" Dean muttered to himself, his throat felt better now that he swallowed a small lake.

That means it's only been a few months down under. But while he was there, it felt like years.

He couldn't imagine an eternity there.

* * *

"Hey, I'm headed out." Sam said, pulling on a flannel."

"Tell Rubes I said hi." Alex didn't look up from the laptop as Sam grunted and headed out the door. She was watching videos on YouTube. The website had only been up for three years. Crawling through all the stupid videos was annoying. But worth it when she found something interesting.

She clicked on a video about a cat, and waited for it to load. As she did, a new window popped up. It was white with a blinking cursor in the top corner. An unloaded page.

She frowned, and went to exit it out. But before she could close the tab, the cursor started to move, words quickly formed before her eyes.

 _Alex._

The vampire froze, her fingers hovering above the board.

 _Don't bite._

Alex looked around the room, shifting uncomfortably.

"Don't bite what?" She muttered to herself.

 _He's coming. Don't bite._

Alex snorted. "Context, man."

 _Right?_

The girl's smile fell. The laptop didn't have a webcamera. Was this a virus? "Wait. Can you hear me?"

 _No._

"I don't believe that."

 _You will._

* * *

It took Dean three days to travel from his demolished graveyard to Bobby's house. The older hunter reacted poorly to talking to him on the phone.

He hot wired the first car he found, an old junker that was only staying up by the Grace of God. Or something.

Anyway, Dean spent the entire drive calling Sam's phone, but the kid never answered him. Dean kept an eye out while he was driving, taking in the scenery for the first time in years. Were trees always that tall? The sky always that blue? Clouds that puffy and the sun that bright? Everything was put into a brighter spotlight after the smoke and screams of hell.

Speaking of screams. Dean shuddered as he remembered the high-pitched screeches from the gas station. His ears were still ringing by the time he got the car to start. There goes the other half of his hearing.

When Dean parked the car outside Bobby's, he slid out of it easily. The hunter bounded up Bobby's steps. He paused for a moment before he rung the doorbell. He suddenly felt a profound appreciation for this doorstep.

It was the place John dropped him and Sam off and then disappeared for weeks, sometimes months, at a time.

It grew to be a place that Dean would turn to if he needed help. A place of trust, of care. Of family.

Dean patted the old door fondly, nothing at Bobby's ever changed and for that, Dean was glad. Seeing the word "New" on billboards and advertisements during the drive only reminded Dean that he'd been gone.

' _Shit, this probably counts as a chick-flick moment.'_ Dean thought. He rang the doorbell, awkwardly fixing his shirt while he waited for it to answer.

Bobby pulled the door open and Dean smiled at the sight of his father.

Dean felt a swirl of relief and joy in him as he said, "Surprise."

Bobby, however, felt the opposite. He stared at Dean in horror, his voice merely a whisper, "No… I don't…"

"Yeah, me either." Dean mumbled, stepping inside. He brushed off the older man's expression. It probably is horrifying to see your dead adoptive son at the door. "But, here I am."

Dean had to grab Bobby's oncoming arm as he tried to slice at Dean. The Winchester pulled Bobby's arm around, back to his side. Bobby turned and punched Dean with the other fist.

"Ow- Bobby!" Dean yelled, stumbling away from him. "Bobby it's me!"

"My ass!" Bobby grunted in reply, stepping into the kitchen, where Dean was. He held his knife up threateningly, his eyes furious.

Dean threw a hand up, sliding a chair in between them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, WAIT!"

Bobby paused, only as Dean continued, "You're name is Robert Stephen Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed. You're about the closest thing I've ever had to a father."

At Bobby's stunned silence, the hunter slowly rose up from behind the chair, "Bobby... it's me."

The hunter stepped forward, kicking the chair out of the way. With tears in his eyes, he gently pressed a hand to Dean's shoulder. Dean smiled up at him, happy to see a friendly face after all this time.

Then Bobby took another swing at Dean. The hunter grunted and deflected the attack again, hissing as they struggled, "I'm not a shapeshifter!"

"Then you're a revenant!" Bobby replied, fighting to get out of his grip.

Dean broke away, having gotten the knife in his hand. "Alright. If I was either, would I do this with a silver knife?"

Dean made sure Bobby was watching as he rolled up the sleeve of his flannel. He took a deep breath and make a clean slice on his arm, watching as the blood pooled and slowly trickled down.

Bobby's eyes flicked up to Dean's his voice one of disbelief as he whispered, "Dean?"

"'T's what I've been trying to tell you." Dean sighed as he stepped up to Bobby.

The more experienced hunter was gasping for breath over his emotion. He pulled Dean into a hug, holding the boy tight. Dean pressed his face into Bobby's shoulder, refusing to be the first to let go.

After all this time, after so long of pain and torture and hurt. This is what he needed. To be held by family, by someone that loves him.

* * *

"What's happening?" Alex asked, trying to move the mouse, but the computer didn't respond to her efforts.

 _I'm here to help._

"Sure you are."

 _Trust me._

"How about no?"

 _He's coming back, and when he does, play nice. Or else he'll kill you._

Alex stopped pounding on the keyboard as she looked at the words. "Is that a threat? Are you threatening me? Who's coming back?"

 _Dean._

"...Dean? Sam's brother? The dead guy?" Alex looked around the room. Maybe she was being punk'd? This could just be some elaborate prank by Sam.

 _He's coming back._

"Sure. Why should I believe this? Who are you?" Alex rolled her eyes, the dead couldn't just rise from the ground. That kind of thing didn't just happen.

 _My name is VASH._

Alex stared at the screen, "You're insane, that's what you are!"

There was no reply. The cursor had disappeared, leaving a blank window with text.

Alex tapped the screen, "What? Not going to talk to me anymore?"

No response.

The was a noise outside. Alex slowly slid off her bed and walked up to the window, unsure of what would be on the other side. Her hand shook as she quickly pulled back the curtain. Sunlight spread across her face and she squinted, feeling the slow burn of her skin. There was nothing outside. The spot that the Impala sat earlier was empty.

Alex dropped the curtain and stepped back into the darkness.

After a moment, she turned and looked back at the laptop, shining on the bed brightly. She grabbed a pen and the motel brochure. In the margins, she scribbled down the one-sided conversation. She's definitely going to accuse Sam of messing with her. Alex thought about it for a moment, and then she added the date and time; just in case it wasn't Sam. It seemed like valuable information to have.

* * *

Dean looked around Bobby's house. Not much had changed, more dust, a different book open on the same desk. Everything was the way it should be. Well, almost. The younger hunter picked up one of the many empty bottles. Yeah, all of the Winchesters, except maybe Sam, had a drinking problem. But even Dean was concerned with the amount of empty bottles scattered throughout Bobby's study.

He raised his eyebrow at his father, shaking the bottle, "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?"

Bobby swallowed, saying, quietly, "These past few months ain't exactly been easy, boy. For me or him. We had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me, anyway?" Dean asked, setting down the bottle. He wiped his hands on his jeans, suddenly wanting the feeling of the bottle and all it represents off him.

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But…" Bobby's eyes flicked down, to the floor. "Sam wouldn't have it."

Dean turned, needing a distraction from the oncoming storm brewing in his gut. He opened the fridge, ducking down to see all the premade meals in it. He looked over his shoulder at Bobby, but the other man was looking away. He must've gotten a girlfriend, Dean decided. Who else would make him dinners with little notes on how to heat them up and scribbled, 'See you in two weeks!' He'll definitely have to tease the older man about that one.

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." Dean finally said, grabbing one of the few bottles of water. He closed the fridge and leaned against it. Bobby was looking at him again, his cap low on his head.

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow." Bobby lowered his voice as he said, almost to himself, "That's about all he said."

Suspicion growing in his stomach, Dean asked, "What do you mean?"

"He was quiet. Real quiet. Convinced him to do three hunts with me. Tried to keep everything as close to normal as we could get. But then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found." Bobby paused and added, as an afterthought, "If it weren't for Alex, I wouldn't know if he's even alive."

Dean had stopped listening, muttering to himself, "Oh, dammit, Sammy."

"What?"

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo." Dean said, a sinking feeling curling in his gut the more he thought about it.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." Dean quickly strips his jacket and pulls up his sleeve. Bobby's eyes widen as he sees the large handprint burned into Dean's shoulder.

Bobby stood up, hissing, "What in the hell?"

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." The second option could lead to some troubling times in their kingdom later on.

"But why?"

"To hold up their end of the bargain."

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby realized.

"It's what I would have done." Dean replied. He would've done it _the day_ Sam got killed. It'd be his priority number one until Sam was alive and standing again. Because he's the big brother. And that's what he's supposed to do.

* * *

It didn't take them long at all to track down Sam and head back to Illinois. Right where Dean was pulled up. Coincidence? I think not.

Sam was easier to hunt down than a monster, but that was only because the boy wasn't really trying to hide from _Dean_. Bobby would have trouble finding the trail. But Dean, that boy couldn't hide from Dean if the lights were off and Dean was blind.

When they knocked on the trashy motel door, a woman answered. Dean would describe her as 'hot'. Bobby would say she's certainly underdressed, but considering the red heart on the door, and the type of hotel they were in, it wasn't all that surprising.

She took one look at them and asked, "So, where is it?"

"Where's what?" Dean asked.

"The pizza, that takes two people to deliver." She's got a mouth on her, this one.

Dean and Bobby glance at one another, "I think we got the wrong room."

Before either of them could move, Sam walked into view, talking to the girl.

"Hey, is-" His voice cuts off when his eyes land on Dean. He stares at his dead brother, suddenly finding it difficult to breath. Fond affection warms Dean's gaze as Sam glances from him to Bobby and back again. He swallows hard.

"Heya, Sammy…" Dean says quietly, his voice full of emotion.

Sam's silent as Dean steps into the room, ignoring the woman, who steps aside to let him in. It's silent, and for a moment, Dean feels peace. His father and his brother are both alive and well. Plus, Sammy's getting some action on the side with some hot chick!

All is well.

And then Sam tries to stab him.

Sam pulls a knife out of nowhere and lunges at Dean. The woman screams, backing away from the boys quickly. Dean blocks Sam's attack and Bobby quickly pulls the younger Winchester away, gripping him around the shoulders. Sam struggles, fury and fear warring in his chest.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Sam shouts, trying to slash at the monster possessing his brother's form.

"Like you didn't do this?!" Dean yells over him, his back against the wall. He won't fight Sam, not now.

"Do what?!" Sam hisses, spitting in fury.

"It's him. It's him." Bobby interrupted, struggling to hold back the mountain of a man, "I've been through this already, it's _really_ him."

The fight slowly drains out of Sam as he stares into his brother's eyes. He knows those eyes, that emotion. He's been looking up to them for years. It's him. It's _really_ him. But it can't be.

"...What?"

Breathing hard, Dean steps forward slightly, "I know… I look fantastic, huh?"

Bobby let's go as Sam pulls Dean into a desperate hug. Emotion swells inside Sam, drawing tears to his eyes and causing his breath to get caught in his throat. Dean buries his face in Sam's neck, holding his brother as close to him as possible. This is what he thought of, when he was in hell. His baby brother, safe and sound.

Sam pulled away eventually, a few hours too quickly, if you ask Dean. He smiled at his brother, about to say something, when the forgotten woman speaks.

"So… are you two, like…. Together?" She asks, confusion lacing her voice.

"What?" Sam frowns at her, confused for a second. She knows Dean. She hates Dean, and Dean hates her. Why would she- _Oh. Right._ Dean can't know about Ruby. "Uh, no. No. He's my brother."

Ruby, brilliant actress that she is, still looks confused as all hell, "Uh, got it… I guess, I should probably go…"

"Yeah, yeah. That's probably a good idea. Sorry." Sam says quickly, his eyes trying to communicate something to her. She just nods, a little brokenly as she "tries to figure out what just happened".

She dresses quickly and leaves as Sam promises he'll text her.

Sam turned around to get the lecture of a lifetime. Dean and Bobby drilled into him, trying to find out what he did to get Dean out.

Sam hissed in fury, "You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby said, crossing his arms.

"Well, I didn't."

Dean used the kind of voice he saved for when Sam snuck out as a kid, "Don't lie to me."

And suddenly, Sam felt ten again, "I'm not lying!"

Dean stepped forward, eyes furious, "So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy?" Sam flinched at that part. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

Anger shot through him, and he turned on his brother harshly, "Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?"

The older hunter grabbed Sam's shirt and pulled him closer, snarling, "There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

Sam broke away from him, getting some space between his brother and himself, "I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean nodded, stepping away. His voice was softer as he replied, "It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

Bobby spoke up for the first time in a while, his mind already jumping to what Sam's innocence meant.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question…"

Dean mumbled, his heart sinking, "If he didn't pull me out, then what did?"

* * *

In the beginning, there were only three powerful beings, worthy of my praise. However, they lacked a certain… obedience. A different breed was necessary for the universe to properly function. And thus, angels were created. Uriel was the first of his kind. Often he pretends to be an archangel, as if they are higher beings than angels. It's simply not true. Stronger, perhaps, are the three archangels, but this didn't make them _better_ in my eyes. The angels were quite wonderful creatures on their own.

There were many, many angels. And each and every one of them were of import. But there is one specific angel that I want to tell you about.

The smallest angel.

Baby angel with wings of black and Grace so strong, was the one who dragged the Righteous Man out of the pit of wrong.

The last angel to ever be created; the youngest in an army. He had to be strong to put up with thousands of older siblings.

Perhaps that's why he was the one given the task to go down into Hell. The archangels - three now down to two - ordered for the oldest angels to gather a group to go down into Hell and save the Righteous Man. They did. And that group took one look at the entrance to Hell, heard just a second of the screams of the damned, and turned around and told their youngers to do it. Who told their youngers. Who told their youngers. Down and down and down it went until only one younger was left.

He had no one to push the task off to. And he was always so obedient.

Heaven held its breath as the baby angel stepped up to the gates of Hell.

* * *

Sam held up a hand, "Before we figure all of this out, can we head back to my motel?"

Dean raised an eyebrow, "This ain't it?"

Sam smiled, ducking his head. Looking around the trashy room at the pictures of barely-clothed models and heart-shaped pillows. He licked his lips, "Uh, Dean, I wouldn't just _stay_ in a room like this."

Bobby watched Sam carefully, as Dean shrugged and muttered, "Fine, but I'm driving."

Dean sighed as he sat in his baby for the first time in forever. Sam, too, felt better now that he was in the passenger seat.

The drive was quick, just a few blocks away to a much more _respectable_ motel. The doors were green and the sign was a deep red, almost the color of rust. There wasn't a stripper in sight. Dean parked the Impala, and sat in the car for a moment, just holding his hands on the wheel. Sam watched him, seeing just past Dean as Bobby parked his old car next to them. Dean inhaled deeply, a small smile on his face.

"You good?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah. I missed her, Sammy." Dean grinned, his hands rubbing against the wheel affectionately, "It's great to be back behind her wheel."

Sam couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face, "Well, I'll leave you two alone, so you can catch up."

Sam slid out of the Impala, pulling out his motel key. Dean grinned, climbing out of the car a little reluctantly. The sun was shining, reflecting off his car beautifully. Dean sighed again, a smile tugging on his lips. He stepped up behind Sam and Bobby as they opened the door.

"What kind of shit do you think you're pulling?" A female voice hissed as soon as the door was open. Dean's eyes widened, seeing a teenage girl in his brother's bedroom.

"How many times are we going to open your door and find a girl behind it?" Dean asked, giving Sam a scrutinizing look.

Sam huffed at Dean, stepping up to Alex, "What's wrong?"

The vampire proceeded to shove a brochure at him, "Do you think this is funny? You scared the shit out of me, Sam!"

Sam read looked at the motel brochure, but it was just a brochure. He didn't see what was so terrifying.

"You like them feisty, don't you?" Dean said as he stepped into the room behind Bobby, closing the door as he went. Alex's eyes widened, her gaze flicking from Sam to Dean and back again.

She stumbled away from Dean, he had the distinct reek of death on him, but his heart was pounding. Death is kind of like BO, each person has a different smell to it. And someone else's death-smell doesn't hang around you, it just stays with the body. There's no chance that this could just be that Dean had killed something and _that_ was the cause of the smell. Nope. This was 100% Dean-death.

"I'm- are you- you're-" Alex didn't know what to do. This was freaking her out. It's one thing to get weird messages online. It's another for them to come true.

"Hey, whoa, calm down." Dean said, holding out his hands. He doesn't know what he did wrong, but the girl before him was incredibly pale. She looked like she might faint. "My name's Dean. I'm Sam's brother. And that's Bobby. He's our friend. We're not gonna hurt you or anything."

That only made her eyes widen. "Yeah. Okay. Cool." She looked at Sam, "We need to talk."

"Someone told you he'd be coming back." Sam looked back at the notes she'd scribbled on the motel brochure. "Why?"

"Hell if I know. I thought it was you at first. A joke or something." Alex said. She was sitting on the edge of her bed. Sam sat on his, Bobby occupied the motel's only chair and Dean leaned against the wall. Her eyes kept flicking from Bobby to Dean. The person - Vash or whoever - said to play nice with Dean or he'll kill her. And she already didn't trust Bobby. Frankly, the new company wasn't very pleasant for her.

"Do you think it was whatever dragged me out?" Dean asked from his perch by the wall.

Sam shrugged, keeping the brochure when Dean held out his hand to read it. He didn't want his brother connecting the dots just yet. The message made it pretty clear Alex wasn't human. Dean pouted, but didn't bother wrestling Sam for it.

"I don't know. Why would they tell her that though? Why not me or Bobby?"

Bobby suddenly looked at Alex then, "What date is it?"

"Uh, the twenty-second?" Sam says, watching his dad stare down his new friend.

The older hunter mumbles, not looking away from Alex, "See you in about two weeks."

After a few seconds of looking at each other, Dean says, "Hey, Bobby? Got something you wanna share with the class?"

Bobby finally dragged his eyes away from the vampire. "I don't know for sure, yet. But I think I know who gave Alex this little… hint. And I don't think they're dangerous."

"Alright. Well, I still want to know what kind of demon dragged you out." Sam said, turning the attention back to Dean. "And why they're not still wearing you."

"How many times to do I have to prove I'm me?" Dean grumbled, already looking for the salt.

"No one's saying you're not." Sam said, eyes flicking to Alex for a second. She nodded, slightly, subtly. He didn't smell like a demon. He still smelled like death. But he wasn't a demon. "I'm just saying, demons don't let go of their meatsuit just for the fun of it. If one of them rode you out, they're planning something nasty for it."

"Well, I feel fine." Dean muttered, shifting on his feet angrily.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam said, trying to get his brother to see reason.

"I know a psychic." Bobby spoke up. "A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

Dean grinned, "Hell yeah, it's worth a shot."

Bobby grabbed his keys and gestured to the door, "Well, let's go, then."

Alex jumped off the bed, eager to get the hell out of this motel room. With Sam's permission or not, she's not one for adventuring alone. She always had her brothers' with her; always on their leash. She hasn't gone out alone in years. So usually she waits around until Sam gets back from his demon time.

Dean turned to follow Bobby and the girl out, but Sam grabbed his arm.

"Hey, um…"

"Yeah?"

Sam slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a special amulet. It looked like a small, golden tiki head with horns. Dean smiled at the sight of it.

"Thanks." Dean says sincerely as he loops it around his neck.

"Yeah, don't mention it." Sam brushes it off. But everything feels a bit better now that Dean's wearing his necklace. He's just not Dean without it.

"Hey, Dean, what was it like?" Sam asked as they walked out of the motel room.

"What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing." Dean lied easily.

Sam nods, "Well, thank God for that."

"Yeah"

Bobby was standing outside his truck, Alex very adamantly next to the Impala. Bobby called to the two, "She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up."

He climbs in his car.

Dean grinned as he steps up to his baby for the second time today. "Miss me, sweetheart? I'll never leave you for so long again."

Alex snorted and crawled into the back seat. She leaned forward to say to Sam, "Does he do this often?"

"All the time." Sam replies with a grin.

Dean glanced down at the radio and his smile immediately fell. "What the hell is that?"

Sam looked down at where he was pointing, saying innocently, "That's an iPod jack."

"You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up." Dean growled, unplugging the stupid contraption.

"It's was Alex's idea." Sam said quickly, pointing to the back.

Alex sighed and leaned back with a huff, " _Dick_."

Sam couldn't hold back his grin now.

* * *

About an hour into the ride, Alex got bored. She was able to convince Sam to let her play one of those horrible games that are downloaded into phones. She had just gotten a new high score on Break Out when Sam's phone vibrated in her hand. He had a text.

She decided she'll just read it to him, since she didn't want to give him back the phone yet. She punched the buttons to bring her to the message screen and clicked the newest unread message.

' _Alex. It's Vash.'_

Oh, great. This fucker again. Alex almost ignored the text, but curiosity got the better of her. This person was right before. Maybe they'll be right again.

' _The psychic. Don't let her look at Castiel.'_

Alex hesitated, but then pushed the reply button. Slowly, she typed out, ' _Or what?'_

She wished phones were easier to text on. If she didn't have to push the 7 button four times, she would've added, 'What's a Castiel?'. But she pushed send and waited for a response.

None came.

With a huff she glanced at Sam and Dean in the front seat. Dean was singing horribly to some rock song and Sam was laughing. She wasn't going to be the one to ruin the moment. So she quietly clicked back to her game and watched as the little ball ran into the red bricks.

After a few more minutes of singing, Dean glanced back at her in the rear view mirror.

"So, are you a hunter, too?" It was only then did Alex realize that they never actually introduced her.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm Alex-Annie." Alex said, "My family died because of a," She glanced at Sam, "a monster. Sam saved me and I've been traveling with him ever since."

"Huh." Dean glanced at his brother. "Was your family fluent in the supernatural?"

"Yeah. You could say that."

Dean nodded as he kept driving down the road, "Well, it's nice to meet you. And I'm sorry about your loss."

"I'd say the same to you, but you came back." Alex replied.

* * *

The woman who opened the door smelled pretty human. Alex didn't really know what she expected, but the psychic only had a strange spicy smell to her, along with her normal human scent.

She flirted with each of the boys and when she turned to Alex, her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh." She said, "You're a-"

"Teenager. Yeah, we know. This isn't an adult only party, is it?" Sam interrupted, his eyes pleading her to stay silent.

And right back to the flirting, the woman winked, "Not just yet, sugar."

They got down to business quickly and before Alex could blink, the five of them were sitting around a table with candles in the middle. The room was dark and the air was cold. Alex tried not to think of the warning from Vash.

"Take each other's hands." The psychic, Pamela, instructed. Alex held onto Bobby and Sam's hands, slightly annoyed that Bobby's hands were so warm. "And I need to touch something our mystery monster touched."

Dean jumped suddenly, trying and failing to not look shocked or offended by the sudden grope. "Whoa! Well, he didn't touch me there."

Pamela laughed, unaware of Dean's unease, "My mistake."

Perks of being a vampire; Alex can hear the heartbeats of everyone around her. Yeah, it's annoying most the time, and it only reminds her how hungry she is; but on rare occasions, it's useful. She can tell how people feel by listening to their heart. She knows when people are nervous or lying or excited. Alex didn't miss the way Dean's heart leaped suddenly and sunk down low painfully. She kept her eyes on him, seeing as how his was the only heart in the room that was beating out of time.

His heartbeat only quickens as he looks around. Slowly, the shrugs off his jacket and rolls up his sleeve. And now Sam's heart is pounding loudly. Alex glances at him, but the other man is focused solely on the nasty red imprint on Dean's shoulder. It's in the distinct shape of a handprint, and Sam can't seem to tear his eyes away from it.

Pamela places her hand over the pink skin.

"Okay." The psychic says and they all close their eyes. "I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle."

The tv behind Bobby turns on and plays static. The table they're sitting at starts to rumble and the air feels charged with a furious power. Alex can smell something almost metallic in the air.

"I invoke, conjure, and command - Castiel? No, sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy."

Alex's eyes flew open at that, she said, at the same time as Dean, "Castiel?"

"Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back." Pamela said, eyes still closed.

Alex shifted in her seat, locking eyes with Dean. "You should probably listen to it..."

But the psychic was drowning out her voice, chanting, "I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"Pamela, seriously."

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

"I really don't think you should-"

"I conjure and command you, show me your face."

Bobby added, "Maybe we should stop."

"We should definitely stop!" Alex almost shouted.

"I've almost got it."

"I don't care!" Alex hissed, "Don't look at Castiel, Pamela! Don't-"

"I command you, show me your face!" She was yelling over Alex's protests now, "Show me your face now!"

The fire of the candles shoots up suddenly, flaring into the air. Pamela screams out in pain as her eyes fly open, white flames burn from her skull and when she closes her eyes again, there's blood streaming down her cheeks like tears. She slumps forward and Bobby catches her.

"Call 911!" He shouts and Sam scrambles into the other room.

Bobby lowers her to the ground and Dean kneels down next to them. Alex stands in the middle of the room, watching. Her hands are shaking and her gut plummets when Pamela opens her eyes. The sockets are burned to a crisp, a dark nasty red color replacing her once beautiful eyes.

"I can't see!" She sobs, "I-I can't see…"

* * *

When it turned out that everyone in the diner they went to was a demon, things were somehow falling into place a bit.

Dean's mouth was the only thing that saved them. Bobby wasn't with them, and Alex was useless, staring into space blankly. When they walked out, Sam whispered to Alex, "Why didn't you tell us they were demons?"

Alex just shrugged, not blinking. "Guess I didn't smell them."

One thing for sure came out of that exchange in the diner. The demons were scared. They had no idea what had the raw power to pull someone out of the deepest parts of hell and stitch them back together. Which means whatever they're dealing with is stronger than the spawn of hell. Lovely.

* * *

Sam was gone, and Alex was left alone with Bobby and Dean. Apparently, Dean's savior tired to kill him via loud screeching noises. The vampire was thankful that she wasn't in the room for that. With her enhanced hearing, that would have been beyond painful.

Instead, it was only merely annoying. She was standing outside, watching as Sam drove away in Dean's car. She followed him outside, asking him just what he thought he was doing. But nothing she said could stop the man, and that might've only been because she wasn't trying too hard to stop him. As the taillights faded into the night, Alex sighed.

Not even three minutes later, and the high pitched noise from inside the room made Alex hiss, her hands clutching at her ears. The glass in the windows shattered and the noise only grew louder. Alex sunk to the ground, she could see as Bobby ran past her and pulled Dean out of the room. She staggered to her feet and followed them as Bobby helped Dean into his truck.

The old man drove away as fast as he could, not knowing what they were fighting or how to fight it. All he knew what to do was to get as far away from the threat as possible until they could game plan.

A few miles down the road and a few minutes later, Bobby asks how they both are.

Alex, sitting in the back seat, has her head on her knees and her hands clutching her ears. "Dying." She grunted.

Dean gave her an odd look in the rear-view mirror as he said, "Aside from some church bells ringing in my ears, peachy." He's no stranger to having his ears be in pain. So this is nothing to him.

He pulls out his phone, calls Sam, and lies through his teeth.

Bobby gives him a bemused look, "Why the hell didn't you tell him?"

"Because he'd just try to stop us."

"From what?"

"Summoning this thing." Dean said seriously.

Alex grunts from the backseat, "Bad idea."

Dean ignores her and looks to Bobby, "It's time we faced it head-on."

"You can't be serious." Bobby said, eyes wide.

"As a heart attack." Dean replied, "It's high noon, baby."

Bobby argued, "Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we've got to be ready for anything." He pulled out Ruby's knife, "We've got the big-time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk…"

"This is a bad idea." Bobby states and Alex hums in agreement from the backseat.

"Yeah, I couldn't agree more," Dean admits, "but what other choice do we have?"

"We could choose life."

"Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. That much we know, right? I've got no place to hide. I can either get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam on this."

"Nah, he's better off where he is." Dean turned to look at Alex, "With your family, how many hunts did you go on?"

Alex replied a simple, "All of them" before she remembered that _her_ hunts and _his_ hunts are actually polar opposites. Dean nods and turns back to face forward. After a moment, he says, "You don't have to come in if you don't want to. You can sit out here in the car while Bobby and I summon this thing."

The vampire would honestly prefer to be four states away from these two right now. But she was never one to sit on the sidelines.

"Count me in."

* * *

None of the demons nor Ruby knew what could have pulled Dean out of hell. And Sam _still_ couldn't exorcise the sons of bitches without killing their meat suit. Everyone was telling him that the end was near and whatever had pulled Dean out was going to kill them all.

Sam had nothing to go off of.

Except for a name…

* * *

Castiel, as it turns out, is a powerful force that makes the sky howl in fury and the air snap with anger. The shackles on the roof were banging in the wind and the lights above them were swinging uncontrollably. Dean turned his wide eyes to Bobby as the lights shattered above them. Sparks rained down on the three of them as the doors to the barn opened slowly. Alex could hear the fear in all of their hearts as the light bulbs exploded.

Through the smoke and falling sparks, they could see a figure, a man, walking slowly to them. They raised their guns and Alex was thankful Sam gave her a mini lesson on how to shoot. The man, the monster, didn't even blink as they shot at him. That smell from earlier, that metallic scent, invaded Alex's senses. He walked through every single sigil Bobby had painted.

Bobby and Dean dropped their guns in favor of knives. The thing was only a foot away from them now. It stopped right in front of Dean.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." Castiel said, his voice deep and rough.

"Thanks for that." Dean replied before slamming Ruby's knife deep into the monster's chest. Castiel looked down at the weapon, eyes calculating. Slowly, he looked back to Dean and pulled the knife out of his vessel. Dean's heart nearly stopped, his mind racing to try to find a way to kill this thing.

Bobby lunged for him, but Castiel stopped his attack easily. He gently placed his fingers against Bobby's forehead and the man slipped into unconsciousness. Dean tried to stand his ground, but all he could think was ' _Demons can't do that, not a demon, holy shit'_ over and over again.

Castiel then turned to Alex and gave her a semi-disgusted look. She stepped back slightly, but he was quicker, reaching forward with ease and tapping her forehead. She fell to the ground with a soft 'thump'.

He then turned to Dean sand said, "We need to talk, Dean. ...Alone."

Like hell Dean was going to say anything to this guy until he made sure Bobby and Alex were alright. Dean leaned over Bobby, his fingers pressed to his neck, searching for a pulse.

"Your friends are alive." Castiel said, flipping through the spell book that Bobby used to summon him.

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Castiel." The baby angel thought that much was clear. Couldn't humans tell who each other were just by appearance?

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean _what_ are you?" Dean growled.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Dean stood up slowly, eyes trained on the so-called angel, "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing." Because, no, there wouldn't be. How could angel's exist when there was so many bad things in the world?

"This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith." Castiel replied, turning completely to face Dean, the spellbook forgotten. Lightning flashes, and spread behind Castiel were great, shadowy wings, stretching over most of the wall. It was just for a second, there and gone, Dean almost missed it. But now that he's seen it, he'll never forget it.

"Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes." Dean muttered, still trying to figure out where this thing stands on the 'good' and 'evil' brackets.

Castiel looked down, ashamed, he tried to explain, "I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

"You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?" At Castiel's nod, Dean shakes his head, "Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake." Castiel apologized, "Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

"This? This is... a vessel."

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Somehow that didn't surprise Dean at all. He _knew_ this thing was a demon.

"He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this." Castiel told the truth. An angel and their vessel is a very sacred bond. Castiel wore his with pride, even if his coat was a little tore up. He very much enjoyed his vessel.

"Well, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?" Dean was still trying to think of ways to get both Bobby and Alex out of here in one piece.

Castiel frowned, "I told you."

Did he not explain it well enough? Perhaps he translated it wrong?

"Right. And why would an angel rescue me from Hell?"

Realization washed over Castiel. He stepped forward, his voice serious as he said, "Good things do happen, Dean."

"...Not in my experience." It was so painfully true that Dean almost regretted saying it.

"What's the matter?" Castiel asked, honestly confused. He doesn't say the next part like a question. It's an answer as he looks closer into Dean's soul. "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Dean doesn't answer. Instead, he hisses, "Why'd you do it?"

"Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

* * *

Tell me what you think!


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